Human Error
by Incey Dee
Summary: Last time Sally Donavan checked, she was still human. It was only a matter of time before she erred. But what about the newly revived consulting detective?
1. Chapter 1 - Pity

**Human Error - Pity**

Sally Donavan folded her arms as she and her peers watched the consulting detective prance absently around the dead victim before them. There was something amiss in his stride, there lacked a certain bounce and fewer words. Most of those words used to be insults directed mainly to her and her team, but now they were small mutters to himself.

Over the past few months since Sherlock's return, Sally had come to terms with her part in his assumed demise and even managed to apologize.

"Always Sally," Sherlock had said "You assume too much of yourself. How could you resist a trap so perfectly set just for you."

Sally accepted the harshness with a nod, she deserved it, but she could not help but bite back "All the same no matter how much of a freak you are, you really aren't so heartless and you would never hurt a child. I should have seen that, I never cared to, and for that I apologize." She turned sharply before he could give her any reason to make his death a reality but was stopped by gentle hold on her arm.

"Thank you Sally." Was all he said with that some hard feelings were melted, enough for her to actually feel something by the sight she witness before her. A distraught Sherlock, bereaved of his partner, alone and muttering to himself, it was almost touching.

The genius raked his fingers through his curls and circled the corpse once more retreating into his mutters. John was unable to assist him again, and it seemed like this would often be the case for the consulting detective as his former partner began to adjust to married life with a baby on the way. He had finished the first case on his own in record time, but as time began to pass and more cases showed up, it seemed as if the fire that kept him going was slowing beginning to fade. Sherlock shook his head. He could do this alone, he did not need an assistant, he was able to function well without one before. Sherlock pulled out his magnifying glass and began to inspect random things on the corps "Can't even make proper deductions..." he muttered aware of how he had gained an audience, good maybe they'd learn something finally.

"This isn't very good is it?" A uniformed cop took his spot beside Donavon who scanned her phone.

"And Lestrade is going to be late, but we need to get this done fast." Sally said as member of the forensic teem took the uniform cop's spot.

"It's kind of pathetic actually." He said with a shake of his head "I almost feel sorry for him."

"Well we can't have that," Sally said with a sigh then approached the consulting detective.

Sherlock raised his hand. "Not now Sally I'm busy."

"Mind thinking a little faster? You're starting to worry us."

"Worry," Sherlock scoffed "It'd take you days to figure out everything I just gleamed."

"Sorry, were not all gifted,"

"How true." Sherlock muttered to himself then noticed Sally had not moved. He glanced to her and she plastered a fake smile on her impatient face then rolled her eyes as it dropped. With a nod Sherlock smirked then looked to the Sargent. "An outside view, a second pair eyes perhaps." He motioned for her to come forward.

"Seriously?" Sally sighed and with a snap of his fingers Sherlock replied a prompt yes then with another sigh and another roll of her eyes, Sally complied. "What?" Sally frowned down at the corpse then back to Sherlock.

"You tell me."

"What do you mean 'you tell me'? You're the one who harassed us to get you a case anyway."

"Not the point this is still your job so, tell me what you see."

"The third victim of a maniac who strangles his victims to death."

"Could have got that from the papers Sally."

"I'm not sure what you are expecting."

"A sound deduction from a competent detective." Sherlock snapped.

There was a stillness in the air as Sally glared at the man before her. Some cops eased from the storm and others still peered in, at least they would be able to explain how the the consulting detective faked this death. With a sigh, Sally leaned over the victim and began to scan the scene.

"He came here alone." Her voice broke the tension and Sherlock smiled at her decision to play along.

"Yes, and." He urged her.

"There is a stamp on his hand, so he's old enough to get into that bar, but not old enough to drink." Sally tilted the victim's head, "No wait, he's really young, the ID must have been a fake."

"Very good." Sherlock noted as Sally began to peer into the victim more. He urged her with small 'hums' of approval as she uncovered more clues and forsook the obvious ones. He began to ask her about specific details to tempt her to dive deeper and warily, she did.

Sally found herself in a strange moment of receiving compliments form Sherlock Holmes and it was mildly frightening. She wondered if she preferred watching him prance around lonely and almost feeling sorry for him than this. Everything she said was met with a positive reinforcement, she felt like he was up to something, But she was not wrong in anything she said, so what had she to fear?

"Clever, what a pity you are not a Detective inspector yet," Sherlock said and Sally actually turned her face away because it felt like she was blushing. Something was defiantly up. Finally she stood with a shrug and a shake of her curly hair.

"That's all I got." She glanced up at Sherlock who had begun to tighten his scarf. "Well?"

"Good." Sherlock said with a nod "I did say competent." He took out his phone and began to text, he spared Sally one more glance and noted she was awaiting his feed back. "It seems as though you are only able to scrape the surface of quite an obvious murder, I really wonder how you achieved your position with such a flaw, but nevertheless you are a great conductor this is why you are still a Sargent and not a DI, it is a pity." Sally's eyes grew wide as she realized she was played 'You are however a very good conductor of thoughts, your wrong ones usually brought to light the obvious ones, which made this observation run faster. You are the perfect side kick for serious detectives and we should do this again sometime" Sherlock turned abruptly to the approaching Lestrade.

"Our suspect is a young woman probably the same age as this victim. And they were quite close. While she used a detached item to murder the others this she did with her own hands." Sherlock moved around the victim and pointed to the area Sally mainly observed "See there, traces of latex but she must have become too involved because there, fingernail polish. Her nails broke though the glove. Check the DNA and his classmates, case close." Sherlock said bounce fully renewed in his prance. "And Sally, nice try."

It took two uniformed cops to hold Sally back and keep her from going after him while another grabbed her gun. She was furious from being humiliated in such a way, especially since she knew it was bound to happen. She then promoted John to a Saint and silently vowed to never assist Sherlock Holmes or pity his loneliness ever again! She shook her head and yanked herself from her peer's grasp then returned to her car to fume away from the concerned eyes of her team. But as she watched the consulting detective prance away from the scene, she could not help but feel a little satisfied that she had helped bring that bounce back.

**A/N: Finally wrote it out! This has been bothering me for quite some time now even though it's so short I had fun writing it! There is a desire to continue what do you think?**

**Thanks for reading please review – Dee **


	2. Chapter 2 - Apathy

**Chapter Two - Apathy**

Over the past few weeks it had happened more times that Sally would have liked to admit. Sherlock had baited her and she had answered his lull only to be humiliated afterwards. The second time it happened he was charming and almost apologetic of his first display. It was a believable act and Sally was not the only one fooled, but of course, Lestrade is considered "ordinary" as well.

Sherlock had pranced around his crime scene as usual then seeming as if he had drawn a blank he turned to the still fuming from their last encounter Sally Donavon. At first he was very blunt in his inquiry for fruitful deductions, but when he noticed the steam coming from Sally's ears, he settled. Then he began with a somewhat charming, but no doubt condescending compliment of Sally's attire. It bounced back at him, she never needed anyone to tell her how good she looked, especially when all her peers were mostly men. So he attacked from a learned weakness her sympathy and her justice.

"I know you are disappointed by my presence here." Sherlock said and earned Sally's glare "Hard feelings aside we are both here for the same purpose. And while I am unable to... communicate as properly as you have mastered, goal is still common."

"Well, never expected you to admit a failure." Sally snapped but Sherlock could sense from her tone that he had softened her a bit and with a secret grin, he continued to reel her in. Before he knew it he had her fully in tune and his inspiration fully in bloom. Of course when he finally cracked the case, almost everything Sally had suggested was wrong, and of course he could not stop himself from pointing that out, and so Sally left scene fuming once more, only to have a similar experience happen just a week later.

The fourth time Sally would have none of it. She shut Sherlock out and all his charm, all his false apologies and his logic, until finally it seemed as though he had snapped. In his very Sherlock way he turned to insults instead. It was not as though Sally was not used to the consulting detective's views of her, her team their work and all boring ordinary people but it was something about these insults that baited her and made her fight back.

Sally fought back in the most intellectual way she could and poked holes in his own theories about the case and to her surprise, she actually got one right. That was all Sherlock needed to spin the spindle and weave the crime scene together in a matter of minutes which of course in turn humiliated Sally and her team all over again.

Even Sherlock's compliment to her finally getting something right smelled sour to Sally. He had tricked her again, and humiliated her again, even if it wasn't as painful as the first few times, it still happened. Once more Sally vowed to never assist him, again and once more she fumed and stormed away to her car, again.

Sally ignored the rouse as she knew it was. She shook her head and set her lips this was not happening today. Not again. Not now, not ever again. She turned sharply from the lure and refused the bait. Sherlock Holmes would not make a fool out of her, again. She know she had said that before, and had failed before, but she really meant it tonight.

Tonight would be different she assured herself. She would not even make eye contact with the arrogant genius. No she would look at her phone scan her email and wait until he solved the case then she would go out for drinks. It was the weekend after all, why couldn't she enjoy drinks too if someone else was so willing to do her job for her? With another flick of her wrist Sally comfortably fell into a game of solitaire.

"Sally,"

"Nope." Sally shot down the beckoning lull with another flick of her wrist.

"You have to admit that is a tad unprofessional." Came Sherlock's drawl.

"You have to admit that _you're_ a tad unprofessional." Sally was quick to bite back.

"Would you even look?"

"That's what you're here for, do your thing freak."

Sherlock leaned up from his task before a smirk broke across his face. It seemed Sally would not even give him one glance, did he affect her that much? He hummed to himself as he debated the best way to lure her back into the game.

Flattery was pointless he knew, but she had actually begun to improve over the past few weeks. However he still needed to find another lull. Insults would only get him so far before Sally actually decided to try to kill him. Sherlock knew their tentative peace treaty could only stretch so far, she had returned to the name calling after all. He placed his hand under his chin as he fell deeper into his thoughts. Finally he gave up with a sigh.

"How about you tell me what did _not_ happen here." Sherlock said finally and received a resigned shrug.

"She _wasn't_ murdered." Sally supplied sarcastically with a twist of her head and a trademark roll of her eyes before she returned to her game completely missing Sherlock's reaction to her words.

"Oh!" His hands went into his curly hair as his eyes began to frantically scan scene before him. "Oh!" He said again louder and Sally shook her head.

NO this was not happening again! Sally mentally screamed as Sherlock began to construct and deconstruct the scene before him. She about-faced and began her fuming march to her car.

"Wait, where are you going?" Sherlock called after her but Sally hardly stopped to answer him.

"You've got it all worked out now don't you." Sally called over her shoulder "Everyone you can come back in."

"Wait, don't you want to know _how_?" Sherlock stood.

"I don't care." Sally lied and she knew it came out as such, but she had a long week and a glass of dark liquor beckoned her. Lestrade walked into the scene with an apologetic expression.

"Sorry I'm late, what've we got." Lestrade began to explain about the wife situation but Sally shook her head.

"Not to worry our favorite freak has taken care of it within record time. Truly a genius that one." Sally pulled on her coat. "Makes our job a lot easier don't you think." She turned and left.

"Well, that was pleasant." Lestrade noted the Sargent's leave and Sherlock's frown. "What is it I thought you two were getting off great." Lestrade waved his hands distressed and Sherlock narrowed his eyes. Lestrade was late quite frequently in the past few weeks and things had become progressively better with his wife. He was constantly pushing Sally to task on her own and supporting Dimmick. something was up.

"When is the vacation?" Sherlock asked.

"Well it hasn't been approved yet." Lestrade began to mumble not at all shocked that Sherlock had figured it out, "I had hoped to let Donovan try her hand at this while I was gone. It's about time you know." He pushed his hands in his pockets "Her performance during the Waters family case was notable. She's young accomplished, already a Sargent. And she's smart." Lestrade gave Sherlock a look who did not object "If I had to choose between her and Dimmick well, you know."

"Is this vacation permanent inspector?"

"No no of course not. Just thinking ahead you know." Greg sighed then glanced down at the victim and back to Sherlock "Well, we will see what happens." Lestrade strode out of the room as the wheels in Sherlock's head began to turn.

Dimmick and Sally, the race was on between those two and they hardly knew it. Sally had climbed really far up which was no easy task in a predominately male job, the odds were already against her but she had potential. With her returned ambition Sally could climb up and very easily overshadow Dimmick. But what would that mean for Sherlock? Would she shut him out of all the fun if she were promoted? He grimace at the thought. Sherlock turned from the scene. If he was going to secure his privilege he had best start now.

**AN: ****Going to up the raiting for future chapters just to be safe. Please tell me what you think about it so far, and ****thanks for the review Icecat and guest. **

**\- Dee **


	3. Chapter 3 - Ambition

Chapter Three - Ambition

Just another Friday night, Sally noted, just another call, another fresh crime scene and another opportunity to be humiliated by everyone's favorite consulting detective. Sally scanned her phone as she stood useless in the field where she had once been very passionate to be in. Her utility had been drained by one man and his 'brilliant' mind and yes, she was more than bitter about that. But there was not much she could do about it now so she scanned the town from her phone and planned her night centered around dark liquor and a charming green eyed bartender.

Something interrupted her thoughts, she glanced up, oh that was just Sherlock's attempt to bait her, again. Sally retuned her attention to her phone. A mask of indifference and a taste of apathy had secured her face for the past month and she was able to ignore the lulls of the consulting detective, but she had to admit, he was very persistent. She glanced from her phone once more, it was something in his tone, it was tad less condescending and maybe a bit defeated. Immediately Sally squashed the bit of pity that began to rise and hardened her eyes as she acknowledged the man's presence before her.

"What did you say?" Sally let the dangerous edge creep in her voice. Even though she knew it did not have the intimidating effects on Sherlock as it had on her peers, she held the glare and her dangerous tones and as expected Sherlock was unfazed.

"I asked if I had managed to exhaust your inexhaustible will, or defeated your unshakable pride." Sherlock said and Sally gave him a blank look. She was unsure how to respond to his inquiry, and clearly trying to foresee the conversation for the moment it turned against her. But Sherlock had different motives today. "Yes," He placed his hands in his pocket and casually began to circle the victim "Strong will, and unshakable pride." he said "Commendable and profitable traits for one found in your position. Young ambitious woman holding a high position in a predominately male occupation, a strong will is needed indeed, and there is every reason to be proud of that."

Sally narrowed her eyes and took his deconstruction as an attempt of flattery. "Where are you going with this?" She could not help but ask and he continued as if she had not spoken at all.

"But still, you are quite lonely. Your female peers either resent you for your status, or are simply just intimidated by your ambition, and it is the same for most of the male ones as well. But males have a bigger risk involve, presumptions and assumptions about romantic involvements may arise if they are seen too many times taking drinks with the ambitious female on the team. Anderson was probably the longest college you have had at work."

"Yes, and you clearly assisted in putting a bolt in that one with your own presumptions and assumptions about a romantic involvement between the two of us, if you can recall."

"I did nothing of the sort, it was your decision to spend a work night drinking, then crawling through strange places without fully removing the evidence from your person."

Sally stared at Sherlock for a moment as she recalled the night of Sherlock's well aimed bolt, and the night before it. True she had spent the night by Anderson while his wife was away, but it had been a night between friends. A childish college night between friends that involved drinks and stupid dares. One of those dares was to inspect a possible bullet-hole of their favorite freak and give him a piece of their minds.

They had drunkenly made it to the destination the fire still boiling in their veins but when the moment came to really go in, Anderson wimped out. Ever the brave one Sally continued on and crawled though the dusty attic, only to find emptiness. Considering their mission a fail, and almost getting caught by the authorities for trespassing, Sally and Anderson vowed to never speak of that night again. But by Sherlock's words, he proved not only was that bullet-hole confirmed, but he was also there that night.

Sally could feel a bit accomplished by her past success, if were not for the remark Sherlock had made which eventually poisoned one of her best friendships on the force. Despite Anderson's formerly perceived animosity toward the consulting detective, sometimes his secret obsession leaked through and Sally was fine with that, because she valued their friendship more, until Sherlock planted that seed.

Bitterly Sally bit her lips then hardened her eyes once more. Sherlock had intentionally planted that seed.

"Must I be held accountable for your peer's incompetence?" Sherlock asked as if reading her mind.

"Yes, you knew what they would think-" Sally cut herself off she was getting too involved, soon he would snap the trap and humiliate her once more, no, not tonight. She released a sigh then began to reinstall her mask of indifference "Why are you bothering me? Is there any reason you're not over there doing my job?" She asked sharply and was stopped by the sight of the consulting detective in that moment.

Standing still, hands in his pockets and staring off in the distance. Fragrances of the first time he had entered the crime scene without John Watson beside him began to stir and suddenly Sally felt as though she was looking in a mirror. He was brilliant in every way, but he stood alone because this no matter how brilliant he was, only few would accept him without being intimidated or resenting him for his talents. The scene pinched Sally's cold heart so she shut her eyes to it until Sherlock began to speak once more.

"When you apologized on that night, did you mean it?" He asked.

"Of course I did." Sally nearly snapped "Why?" She peeked her eyes open curiously.

Sherlock seemed to have shifted uncomfortably. He glanced at the victim once more then Sally "I wanted to grant you an opportunity." He said " An opportunity to care... To coexist in a way," He answered Sally's inquiring gaze "Coexist, and occasionally assist me, without me having to trick you."

"And why would I want to do that?" Came Sally's drawl and Sherlock shrugged.

"Because despite your humble beginnings, meager talent and skills" Sherlock slowed at Sally's glare "You are not a bad detective, and quite clever to have made it this far in the field. Your ambition and dedication makes up for your lack, and also makes you a decent person to work with."

Sally folded her arms "Is that supposed to convince me?"

"Yes." Sherlock said simply "You appreciate the honesty, and you are slightly flattered."

"Oh, was it the meager talent and skills part? That really got me off didn't it." Sally added sarcastically and Sherlock smirked.

"You will not regret it Sally." He said simply "Even in your reluctance, over these past few weeks working with me you have made improvements in your deductions and logic. There is so much potential in you and if I could only capture it and mold it you could be great." Sherlock's eyes were near shining and Sally turned her gaze from them.

"I'll think about it." She said simply then raised her hands before he could speak again "I said I'll think about it." She affirmed strongly then turned to exit as Lestrade arrived to the scene.

The detective inspector watched his best Sargent leave, for once not in a fury, but still checked his watch. It was Friday night after all, just because Sally was in a good mood, that did not mean her newly formed habit would just melt away. Lestrade turned to Sherlock, the perceived source of his Sargent's newly formed habit and listened as Sherlock began to explain the scene before them and suggestions on the suspects.


	4. Chapter 4 - Drinks

**Chapter Four: Liquor**

The dimly lit bar and smooth music was alluring, but for the sake of his rekindled marriage he could not stay for long. Lestrade scanned the bar found to his Sargent and tapped her shoulder "Alright I'm turning in." He said expectantly. Sally reached into her hoister unloaded her gun and passed it to him without a word, then returned to her drink. "You'll be alright here by yourself? It worries me to just leave you."

"I'll be fine, I always am." Sally snapped then waved down her charming bartender "Now go home to your wife."

Lestrade hesitated for a moment as if to warn her once more, but then shook his head. "Alright then, just don't get into any trouble." He said over his shoulder as he left.

"You have my gun, what trouble can I get into without it?" Sally sigh into her glass as Christophe, her tall, tanned, green-eyed bartender approached her. He refilled her drink gave her a smooth wink and she smiled with a wink of her own then slipped him a tip flushing over his swagger as he moved to the next guest.

"He's gay you know." Came the smooth drawl beside her. Sally nearly choked on her drink. Her eyes slid sharply to the bane of her existence as he straightened his suit jacket and motioned for a drink. "It's quite obvious actually" Sherlock continued completely unfazed by Sally's glare. "In fact his partner is right over there. Obvious."

Sally calmed herself as much as she could as she leaned back in her chair then with a sigh she finally spoke. "Well you would know wouldn't you." She smoothly took another sip of her dark drink.

Sherlock's brow rose at what Sally implied.

"I suppose you have an expert opinion in that area." She rolled her eyes and Sherlock sighed.

"I'm not gay, I was engaged." Came his exhausted drawl "Sally... your deductions... And you had such potential..." Sherlock lifted his glass to his full lips which Sally seemed suddenly captivated by and downed the dark drink in one movement. When he came up Sally was still staring at him then as if noticing her fault she bristled and turned away.

"For the record, I already knew he was gay. I just like to keep attractive company." Sally snapped.

"Yes, yes of course admire from afar but never let them in." Sherlock received Sally's glare for his deconstruction. He nodded but just to complete it he continued "And occasionally take them home but only one night you can't bear the thought of being tied down any longer than that." Sally bristled at his words and he actually witnessed her bright eyes hardening as the well predicted question spilled pass her sharp lips.

"What are you doing here, and what do you want?" Sally snapped.

"Ah two in one, we're improving..." Sherlock muttered to himself then turned back to Sally and smiled, sort of. "I nice drink between colleagues perhaps. Drinking alone is not very healthy."

"We are not colleagues." Sally snapped "I am not John Watson."

"No Sally," For a moment, Sally noted something deep passed through Sherlock's eyes. "John Watson is my friend." He said "My dear friend and while within you is the potential to be a capable detective I doubt there is within you the heart to become someone as dear to me as John. Because that's what matters. Heart matters Sally." Sherlock stressed deeply.

Sally was silent, stunned by the deep affection expressed by a man she once deemed heartless, and as she stared into her dark drink, she could not help the bile of self pity that began to rise in her being. She had never known such affection, such loyalty. Even teeth bit into her dark lips as she slammed the door on such thinking. She had never known such sentiments, and she never would. With that vow and a deep gulp Sally finished her seventh drink of the evening, a salute to her resolve. The glass slammed down and she prepared herself to leave.

"I don't drink with colleagues." Sally pulled out her wallet. "Often leads to ruined furniture or disastrous rumors as you have so well taught me." She placed her payment on the bar and made to stand but almost fell over in the process. Sherlock caught her as her wide eyes scanned the ground before her. Her breath came in short gasps as she attempted to shake the haze from her form. "Maybe I should have stopped at six." she muttered to herself. "No let me go." She pushed Sherlock away but nearly fell in the process.

"Sally" Sherlock's condescending tone was somehow comforting and Sally almost pressed her ear against his chest to hear more before she snapped herself out of it.

"No." Sally shoved away again this time fully gaining her balance as she walked out of the bar.

Once outside the cold hit her firmly. Sally could hardly keep her teeth from chattering, but the thought of going back was exhausting. She bit her lips, ignored her tears as hugged herself and took in quick shallow breaths. She waved to a passing cab who seemed to have ignored her completely and she cursed her luck. Of course they would not see her, why would they? Probably much more expensive loads to pursue. Bitterness crept in and she welcomed it ever the present visitor. Just as she accepted the thought of bracing the cold and walking home she was consumed by warmth. She clung to it and wrapped it around her then turned to see Sherlock tying his scarf about his neck.

"You forgot your coat." he said simply and Sally nodded as she tied the material tightly around her frame.

"Thank you" She said and Sherlock nodded as he flagged down a cab with ease. It stopped before him then he turned to her.

"Come now Sally," Sherlock said simply. Sally eyed him "Or should I carry you." Sally's form straightened immediately as she nearly marched into the cab. Sherlock hid his smirk then climbed in beside her.

A groan escaped her as the cab moved slowly through the traffic. Her head fell back as she attempted to orient herself, she would not be weak. She would not give into her stomach lurches. No she had to maintain her dignity, her respect. Sally released another groan. "Would you mind telling him to please stop moving." She shook her head "No, No, Never mind it's his job, no don't do that." another groan "But it's getting on my nerves so maybe you can, if you like." She heard Sherlock's chuckle and could not snap her head fast enough without getting dizzy so she leaned it against his shoulder "Why are we funny?"

"It is unusual and a tad unexpected, you are very polite intoxicated." Came Sherlock's drawl and Sally's eyes fluttered up at him.

"No I'm not." Sally's lips turned in a saucy smirk then she caught herself "Oh no, sorry not you." She balanced herself "Colleagues, colleagues do not- but you don't even work for us what are you doing? I never understand you." She sigh then raised her hands "Don't speak, no I can't handle that wit of yours right now, just don't do it to me please."

Sherlock opened his mouth to retort, but then closed it with a small nod and Sally sighed relieved then settled herself back against his shoulder.

The ride continued in silence and Sherlock almost took it as a sign that Sally had allowed herself to fall asleep. But he could not ignore her small mutters to herself to stay away, stay strong, stay alert, even though she was clearly intoxicated, she still refused to let her guard down. It was almost commendable. He was beginning to find a lot of near commendable things about the ambitious Sargent, ones that confirmed his decision to perfect her. There was much work but so much gain. Sally's muttering stopped, and he realized that she was now talking to him, sort of. He tuned his ears and regarded her.

"I didn't immediately hate you, you know...when you first showed up." Sally said then raised her hands "Keep your voice to yourself I can't take it right now." She reminded Sherlock and with a nod she continued to speak "It was after you solved the Holden murder case that I began to despise you." She was silent for a moment as she let the words stir in the air then with another sigh she began to offer the expected explanation. "My uncle was a cop, a good detective but he had this one case that drove him mad. It was Holden. One day he was on duty, and Holden snatched a twenty year old woman right under his nose. She was found dead a few weeks later mutilated with Holden's trademark on her forehead.

"My uncle beat himself up for months over that victim. But it motivated him, and when he promoted, Holden struck again, and again right under his nose. It seemed as if he was particularly targeting him, as if Holden knew it was driving him insane that he could not catch him. By time he made detective inspector Holden had five victims, and then he just disappeared.

"My uncle was intent to find him, it really did drive him out of his mind and one day he thought he had a lead. It was a false lead that caused him is life in the end." Sally frowned and watched Sherlocks eyebrow rise then answered the unasked question "When I started on the force, of course I inherited my uncle's burden. I wanted to find Holden and I wanted him to pay for everything he had caused those people and my uncle suffer. And finally one day Holden showed his face again and I knew I could catch him if I only had the resources from my team.

"But then you showed up." Sally glanced over to Sherlock "You showed up and pieced all the evidence together which would have been great had you not complimented the skill of the fiend we were trying to catch. And then you caught him, without a blink of an eye. It was just so easy, as if you had known all along. It was crazy, its crazy to see that for the first time around how do you do this? It just does not fit." Sally killed her ramble and shook her head.

"I could not get over it, I could never understand it, so I hated you." she sigh "When Moriaty he set everything up, it was so believable, it was so easy. It fit too well and I could not help it..." She turned herself from Sherlock and glared at the traffic outside of her window. "But the moment I found out you jumped from that building, none of that mattered anymore.

"I could not speak. I knew I had been tricked and used as an instrument to push you to that point. The guilt came instantly but I shoved it away until I finished that case until I proved myself wrong and when I did, I really could not speak. I leaked the story to the newspapers, how you were wronged in this situation, thinking it would clear my conscience, but it didn't. Not until you showed up again." Sally closed her eyes as the movement of the cab slowed she felt suddenly exposed and she wanted to hide. "I need to get out of this car." She said and with a turn of her wrist the door was open and she did just that. She heard the scream of the taxi driver as she ran from the cab through the traffic and emptied her stomach in a nearby alley. When she emerged Sherlock was standing there waiting for her.

"Am I permitted to speak now?" He offered her his arm simply and she took it.

"I guess I owe you that at least." Sally said as they began to walk.

"I am not sorry." He assured her.

"Of course you're not." Sally accepted that with a small smile

"And I do, accept your apology." He said and Sally rolled her eyes.

"Of course you do." Sally said then smirked "Now enough about the cab." She laughed softly and Sherlock paused at that sound. He had never heard her laugh so free. With a shake of his head he continued their walk and their careless banter as soft rain began to fall about them.

**A/N: I was listening to Leaves in the River by Sea Wolf and this chapter just kind of happened. Tell me what you think. Thanks for reading. **


	5. Chapter 5 - Mornings After

**Chapter Five: Mornings After **

Sally cracked open her eyes with a groan. An image of a ivory muscular arms encasing her flashed before her and she shook her head from it as she scanned her bedroom. She was alone in her modestly furnished bedroom, everything was the same as she left it, the problem was she did not remember entering it.

She turned her head sharply to unexpected sounds in her kitchen, opening of cabinets, the hum of a machine. Stealthy Sally slipped her hand under her bed and found her second gun. She loaded it as she stepped out of her bed then quietly made her way toward the source of the ruckus. With a deep breath she turned the corner her gun aimed only to find an unfazed Sherlock casually pouring himself a cup of tea.

"Hmm..." Sherlock purred "I knew John was not the only ordinary person who sleeps with a gun in their bedroom." His gaze passed over the shocked Sally as she stood gaping at him.

"What are you doing in my house?" She asked as she lowered her gun.

"Making a cup of tea obviously Sally."

"How did you get in here?"

"I was invited." Came Sherlock's self assured reply and immediately Sally began to panic. She scanned him and herself as her mind raced. What had happened last night, sub consciously she inspected his body for any clues and almost backed away from the fright of the thought. "Don't flatter yourself." Sherlock ceased her assumptions with a shake of his head "Scotland Yard's finest, I hope not."

Sally released a relieve sigh, let the insult pass, shook her head and recomposed herself. She placed her gun down but kept the edge in her voice as she spoke "What are you doing in my kitchen?" She eyed Sherlock suspiciously and he placed the cup he was holding down with a sigh.

"What does it look like?" Sherlock turned from the coffee maker then began pouring her a cup. Sally approached the island and took the offered cup of coffee then turned into her sitting room.

"Just don't touch my microwave." She said over her shoulder "Or do anything with, eyeballs..."

"It was an experiment."

"Whatever don't reproduce it here." Sally settled on her sofa, turned on the news and proceeded with her mundane Saturday.

Eventually Sally stirred and decided to wash the previous night off her body. When she emerged from the shower dressed in comfortable clothing she found Sherlock sitting at her kitchen table, a hot cup of tea in his hands and his eyes trained on the newspaper in his grasp. Sally pursed her lips at the scene. She accepted the fact that Sherlock had apparently escorted her home the night before, and nothing happened. She was not bothered that he decided to stay the night because it would have been rude to send him away at that late hour anyway. But it was daylight now, not very bright out bit daylight nonetheless. Try as she may Sally could not find any logical reason why Sherlock Holmes was still in her home.

Then came the sound of thunder and the sky began to pour. 'Oh, that's why' Sally thought with a nod of her head. Everything finally made sense again, or at least she could make excuses and pretend that they did. Whatever, she would make it work, because she really could not explain to her brain any other reason public enemy number one, Sherlock Holmes would willingly decide to stay in his public enemy number (maybe one hundred), Sally Donovan's home. With a shrug Sally began to proceed with her mundane Saturday and it appeared as Sherlock did the same. He did not move from his chair, try to speak to her or anything it was as if he were invisible and for a while Sally was perfectly fine with that.

Sally pulled back her curtains and peered out the window at the formidable rain. "So what now?" She asked and Sherlock glanced from his newspaper. "We sit on the couch, watch chick flicks and braid each other's hair?"

The corners of Sherlock's mouth turned up briefly as he gave her a small smile then returned his attention to the paper.

"No seriously, now what? I can't just keep pretending like you're not here all day."

"Then don't," Sherlock said simply. "Join me."

"No, I don't want to join you in, whatever it is you're doing there. Why are you here? You could have left long before I woke up and even afterward, what's going on? And you can't ignore the question because this is my house and I do have every right to kick you out." Sally said then received a defiant glare from Sherlock. "I also have a gun." She added. Sherlock released his glare, gave Sally another small smile then stared off as he thought about his answer.

He had his reasons for not leaving, or so he thought. After he had seen Sally off to bed he had full intention of leaving, it was not too late. But the thought of returning to his flat, his empty flat, stilled him. For reasons unknown to him, Sherlock could not bring himself to return to that cold lonesome flat. So he roamed through Sally's modern but humble home and sat the night through. He forgot time then, and before he knew it the sun had rose. Somewhat anxious at the thought of Sally sending him away he prepared her coffee, no sugar just how John preferred. And when Sally had awaken she took it without a word, without putting him out. But now she was asking, now she demanded an answer, and Sherlock could hardly bring himself to release it to her.

He closed his eyes with a sigh then almost timidly he answered her question. "We could... do deductions..."

Sally's face crossed "What?" she asked baffled.

"Deductions." Sherlock placed the paper aside "I found that outside on the way from the bar," Sherlock pointed to an elegantly carved stick leaning against the wall "I thought it would be fun to deduce who it might have belonged to."

"You stole an old man's walking stick? And now you're using it as your reason for staying here?"

"No Sally, he is actually not very old at all, and it was not used for walking." Sherlock stood and took the stick in his hand "You can see here that this stick was actually used to-"

"Wait what are you doing?"

"Deductions Sally weren't you listening, you just had your turn and now it is my turn." Sherlock said then returned to his sentence "This stick was actually used to-"

"Wait- Why are we doing this?"

"You wanted something to do, this is my solution. What do you think? Will you play?" Sherlock's eyes gleamed. Sally bit back a smile as she pressed her hand against her forehead.

"Man... You're such a freak." She groaned with a shake of her head and wondered how she ended up in such weird company. She glanced at Sherlock, his eyes were still gleaming. With another sigh Sally sat the table then gave a waved of her hand "Ok fine go ahead." She poured herself a cup of tea. Sherlock continued his deduction with renewed vigor.

"This stick was actually used to hide various substances and you can see that from the small gap right here where one would open it. The fact that this gap is visible means that the package was delivered and the stick was left because it is no longer important. Obvious! There. I win." Sherlock triumphantly slammed the stick down with a bright smile only to find brown eyes glaring at him over a steaming cup. A long silence stretched between the pair as Sally's glare made her point. Then Sherlock cleared his throat and straightened his shirt. "I suppose I took more than one turn." He said and Sally's glare lifted slightly "And maybe I could slow down just a bit." He said "or a large bit." he added more to himself.

Sally exhaled deeply, pressed her eyes shut then opened them with newly found patience. "Lets try this again." She said and witnessed Sherlock's face light up like a child during Christmas. "Slowly, I know it might be painful but, if were going to play you have to play nice. And that means..." Sally paused, she actually did not know what that meant, she had never played nice a day in her life. She tried to think back to some helpful words her mother may have passed to her or even Lestrade but failed. "Just wait your turn next time, and don't over kill it. I'm new at this, but I'll get better, eventually."

"I expect so" Came Sherlock's drawl "And I fully intend to make that happen." He added to himself as he pulled out another item. "Now Sally what about this?" Sally leaned over the scarf and sighed as she perceived her humiliation, and Sherlock's Holmes deduction training began.

They spent hours this way, and to Sally's surprise it was quite pleasant. Sherlock did not learn how to play nice, but eventually Sally adjusted, somewhat. As evening began to fall she wondered what would happen next. Would Sherlock stay another night? Would there be an awkward goodbye? Then what? What they go back to fighting once he left? Sally's wonderings were interrupted when she received the call that her mundane Saturdays revolve around. Sherlock perked up when he heard her brief conversation and by the time she had finished he had already pulled on his coat and was tying his scarf.

"Where?" Sherlock asked and Sally sighed and told him the location. "Come Sally," Sherlock responded to Sally's curious gaze "the game is on." he said. With a shrug Sally slipped into her room pulled on her day cloths and was out without a moment lost.

When she arrived in the scene with Sherlock beside her the few that noticed said nothing of it as Sherlock's prancing began and so their humiliation. Which was ok with Sally, because it appeared as if things were finally back to normal.

**A/N: Thanks so much for the feedback. I was so hesitant to try this pair and now I'm so relived :) thanks. **

**And yes Icecat I'm trying to work with their isolation, build a friendship, and find Sally's humanity all while staying true to character. It's fun, I hope it's working out fine especially once a real case shows up, because they'll have one, eventually. **

**Thanks for for the reviews! **


	6. Chapter 6 - Paperwork

**Chapter Six: Paper work**

"What do you mean it's boring?" Sally snapped "I bet you have nothing else going right now." Sherlock motioned for his cab to return.

"As I said, boring. You can handle this on your own I'm sure." With a wink he turned and climbed into the taxi "This shouldn't keep you all week. See you Friday night, Ta." With that the only consulting detective, and Sally's thorn in her side left the crime scene.

Sally bawled her hands into fist as the cab drove off. This was Sherlock's second time deserting her within the month of Lestrade's absence on the grounds that a case was too boring for him to be involved with. Initially, Sally assumed she would have been overjoyed if this day ever occurred, but not now. Not when she had a desk full of paper work to file, which was also Sherlock's doing. And what was this about Friday night? He could not do cases but he could bother her during her should be solitary drinking sessions! Sally growled at the retreating cab then caught herself. She noticed the concerning looks about her, the officers had weary expressions on their faces as they eyed her and her gun.

"Well we're not getting paid to stand around here all day." Sally snapped then with a wave of her hand she motioned for them to follow her into the scene.

A young man tied to a bar stool lay face-planted on the floor of the dim room. There was a chain about his neck and multiple bruises on his form. It looked as if he were engaged in some sort of sadomasochist play before his death, which automatically placed his partner, whoever it was, as a suspect. Sally circled the victim ruffled her hair a bit as she leaned over him to look for any clues. How did Sherlock do this? Just stare at them until something completely unimportant, but obviously important just popped out at him? Sally groaned at the thought, how was she supposed to do that? Why couldn't he just solve cases like a normal person? Someone cleared their throat. Sally snapped her head up to give them a glare.

"Sargent," The forensic team leader said "I believe you are attempting to do our job." he hid his smirk as his superior's glare melted from her face and was replaced with slight confusion, and a ting of embarrassment.

"Wha? Sorry." Sally shook her head to hide her embarrassment. She stepped away from the victim and motioned for the forensics to get to work. She would read over their results later but for the moment she just needed a minute to step away and exhale silent curses toward the world's only consulting detective, who apparently was beginning to rub off on her.

Another Friday night in it seemed. Sherlock scanned the modest flat as he poured himself a cup of tea. He did not know how it happened, or maybe he did but did not care to admit it, but somehow every week he found himself in Sally's flat. It was nothing explicit, nothing which would circulate rumors, but since the Saturday she failed to send him away, Sherlock found himself in this flat more often than they both would like to admit.

It was different from Baker Street, yet it had the same feeling, the warm feeling that had been absent for such a long time. Sally did not seem to mind his constant presence. There was confusion at first, of course there was, but once she adjusted, made up whatever excuse that placated her for the evening, there was acceptance. Sherlock was at ease. In return he had decided to help her alleviate some of the flaws that hindered her ability in becoming an acceptable detective.

At first it was only on the crime scene that Sherlock would help her see obvious clues. But, every now and then he would toss her to the wolves and see how she finned for herself, and if she did not finish it fast enough he would save her. A frown threatened to overcome his features. He had assumed she was well equipped for this most recent one, and he had such hopes. Sherlock shook his head from his lofty expectations, it had only been two days. He sat across from the laboring Sargent and grinned at her glare as she returned to her work.

"I should be commended, I have broken a very strong trend." Sherlock announced.

"What?" Sally's glare was gained once more.

"Most men you invite in your flat, do not get to see another evening, you said so yourself."

"I said I like to keep attractive company." Sally clarified and returned her attention to her documents.

"Yes, but only for a night. I seem to have broken that trend." Sherlock smirked

"I never said I thought you were attractive." Sally missed the befuddled expression that passed over Sherlock's face as she carelessly made a note on one of the photographs. There was an awkward pause in the air as she continued to scan her documents. Sherlock opened his mouth three times to respond but was regarded impassively by the Sargent. Then finally he shook the insult from his curls and leered over her notes.

"Well, this is taking longer than I expected." Sherlock smirked to himself as Sally began to explain.

"The murder is quite obvious, suffocation they say, but where is the murder weapon?" Sally took a sip of her coffee then returned to the files in her hand "We have seen many like this before, which maybe is why you deemed it boring, however the crime scene was clean, and we can't even pinpoint a suspect."

"Do tell me what you are certain of Sargent Donavon." Sherlock cooed

"I can't be certain of anything with this evidence, or lack of."

"You can attempt to make a sound deduction and if it is good I will assist you."

"What is this some kind of game to you?" Sally snapped then raised her hand just as Sherlock opened his mouth to respond "Never mind, I take it back." She sighed "I have one idea, I'm sure you're going to shoot it down."

"Try me." The corners of Sherlock's lips turned up and Sally released a small sigh.

"These are organized attacks from a hostile gang in this area." She pointed to another section of the map and watched Sherlock's eyebrow rise "Even though the victims are not linked, have nothing in common and found in different parts of the city, they were still murdered in the same way. And all of them were fairly well off."

Sherlock hummed "You are capable of producing a stronger deduction." Sally was near snapping at him, before she registered the compliment and wondered not for the first time if Sherlock was attempting to mentor her in his odd Sherlock way. She pushed the thought aside with a sigh then returned to her notes.

"I don't have anything else." She mumbled

"Of course you do." Sherlock said with that twinkle in his eyes and with another sigh Sally returned to her notes. He continued to watch her as she labored over the notes and released various curses and sighs until finally he could take it nomore. "Where was the victim found?" He snapped.

"In the Cafe's ally..." Sally began.

"How did he get there?" Sherlock cut her off.

"What do you mean how did he get there?"

"You ran his cards, you were able to reproduce his route around the city. How did he end up at that cafe which is in the complete opposite direction of his original location?"

Sally rolled her eyes "He caught a cab and met his murder there."

"No." Sherlock said simply then grasped his coat as he rose. Sally stared at him. "Well." He beckoned her.

Sally stood "Where are we going?" she pulled on her coat and frowned at Sherlock's widening grin.

"We are going to find our murder." That dangerous twinkle in his eyes was back and with that they left the flat to embrace the cold night before them.

The case was solved in a matter of hours. They found the working woman who had been with the man moments before his death, and arrested her handler who had drove him to that location and dumped his body. The pair claimed to have had nothing to do with the man's death but the evidence was too obvious once pointed at them, especially when the witnesses came forth. So another case solved by everyone's favorite consulting detective.

Sally could not even try to be bitter about this, she really had no idea where to begin and she had asked him for help. However, as the cop car pulled off with the suspects inside, she could not push away the nagging feeling within her. Maybe she'd review the case again on her own. But for the moment she would allow the press to interview the consulting detective, again, and return to the office to file his paperwork, again. With that and a sigh Sally turned from the scene and got into her car.

It was rare that she had paper work which kept her in her office this late, but since Lestrade's vacation, and Sherlock's decision to only work with her during her time spent as interim DI, her desk had been swamped with paper work. Sally frowned, this was all Sherlock's work. She had only managed to solve one case on her own during her time in Lestrade's absence. That was only because Sherlock had chosen to abandon her and make her work it out herself, which took much longer than she had expected. But she comforted herself that she was not as unproductive as usual when the consulting detective was around. Sally frowned at the thought still not comfortable with the inferior position Sherlock's brilliant mind placed everyone in, but at least she had the paper work. The paper work made her feel a bit more useful. If Sherlock were really one of their detectives he would have to do his own paperwork. But he was not, and Sally's post was still needed so she did the paperwork.

She sighed as she sat back from her desk. Her hands passed over her sore eyelids as and an exhausted sigh escaped her lips. When she had first began, before Sherlock had become so popular, she used to be more useful than this. There was bitterness toward the brilliant man, but not hardly as much as before, especially after the past few months. It seemed that the two of them had managed a truce, a routine even. Sherlock would arrive on the scene with all his swagger and Sally would shadow him and boost his intuition with her usually wrong deductions. There was that chuckle, that arrogant twinkle in his eyes and then he would prove her wrong before directing them on the next line of investigation.

Sally learned not to be too hostile toward him, she learned that he really could not help showing off. So most of the time she controlled herself, and not all the time spent with the consulting detective was all insults and groans. She had to confess that her skills had improved drastically while in Sherlock's care. Not that she would ever verbally admit it to anyone but herself or thank him, but somehow she sensed he knew.

She rested her chin on her upraised palm as thought on her success. If only she had this training, these skills earlier in her career, would she be stuck in the position that she was in now? What of all the cases that she proved incapable of, how well she would have finished them. Sally's lips thinned as the thought crossed her head. A temptation stirred within her, an impossible temptation that neared obsession, but she could never resist this obsession.

Placing her pen aside Sally stepped back from her desk and opened her bottom cabinet. She dug for a moment until her hands met the cool plastic of the protective film which covered the file she dug out. With a sigh she opened it and scanned the well-read document.

Her first case. Sally ran her fingers over the five year old newspaper article. Eva Dominique, a twenty-seven year old woman who worked for a business consulting firm, had gone missing. The woman's fiancée pressed The Yard to find her, Sally was on the case, but after three days with no sign of the Eva, her fiancée committed suicide. The death hit Sally very hard. She could not shake the feeling that she had failed both the missing woman and her fiancée but still she searched for Eva. Ultimately the search was called off, and the case was filed away. But Sally never forgot, she always returned to it, thinking back wondering if she had acted faster, if only she could have found Eva sooner, then at least one life would have been saved.

With a shake of her head Sally closed the file, it was pointless to muse on it. She redirected her attention to the papers before her, the highlights of Sherlock's work in the last case, and all the paperwork that followed it. Sally nodded at least that was one death she could no longer blame herself for. With another nod she decided to face the present and turned from her regrets before she was swallowed up in the past. A sharp knock at her door frame stole her attention. Yet another crime scene. She looked at her mobile at least now the force had the speed it needed to avoid further tragedies.

**A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews. I recently activated my Microsoft word, and so all the hidden errors are now exposed. Thank you all for being such good troopers and bearing with me. I will go back and correct the chapters once I get at a good stopping point. **

**I feel like I have gotten these two to a point where they can actually work together on a case, so stay tuned for an actual case. I think I've laid a pretty good foundation, what do you think? **

**Anyway, Thanks so much Icecat, I'm soo happy you're getting me on this, that is exactly what I am trying to do. Trying to humanize both of them through each other and it helps that they can be so blunt with each other so yay. It's nice to be understood. **

**Thanks Headphonegirl, I'm happy you like this presentation of Sally. I'm still trying to stay true to character so I can't really make her nice, but I'm happy this works. **

**Thanks Eowyn I'm trying to be faithful to present them both in an honest light as this relationship builds without being biased. So feel free to let me know if I lean on one side too much, it's a fine balance, but again it's fun. **


	7. Chapter 7 - Relationships

**Chapter Seven - Relationships **

Lestrade returned from his vacation to find everything exactly as he had left it, and best of all his Sargent did not murder the consulting detective. Lestrade commended Sally on maintaining the peace while he was away, and within five minutes of his return, there was a call and they were back on a crime scene with the prancing consulting detective nearby. Everything was back to normal.

"Oh yes Sargent that makes perfect sense and then I suppose afterward the murder decided to-" Sherlock's insult faded off with a shake of his head. Lestrade raised an eyebrow. That was new.

Had Sherlock just censored his insult toward Donovan? Had Donovan tactfully avoided jumping down his throat or threatening to shoot him in return? This was very new.

The detective inspector did not make a big deal about it. This new occurrences was not unpleasant after all. He decided to just continue as if everything were normal and enjoy the moment, because he was a very logical man, and he knew a peace like this would not last long.

Two weeks into his return, Lestrade witnessed Sherlock censor his insults more than once, and Donovan's unusual sense of calm around the consulting detective. He did not expect this miracle to last so long, and finally he began to question it. What could have possibly happened while he was away?

At first it was comforting that the pair was no longer at each other's throats all the time, but after two weeks of the miraculous peace it began to make the Detective Inspector feel strange and uncomfortable. Lestrade is a fairly logical man. He only celebrated Christmas because his wife was catholic, he did not believe in supernatural beings or miracles. Yet there prancing right in front of him, cooperating together and even passing inside jokes was the most unbelievable miracle anyone could dream up. He had to find out was going on and soon, before he completely consented to losing his mind.

The Detective Inspector decided to find one of them alone and carefully, carefully investigate the source of the mysterious truce which had occurred in his absence. He had to be careful about these things, because even though the peace was new, it was not unpleasant. Before he had fully composed his thoughts Lestrade spotted a cab pulling into the crime scene and noted the consulting detective's arrival. Carefully, he reminded himself as Sherlock approached the scene and began his newest quest.

He never got a word in. So distracted by the case being unfolded before him Lestrade completely forgot to inquire about the strange companionship. Then, with a sudden thought as if he had forgotten something Sherlock paused his expounding and turned to him.

"Where is Sally?" The consulting detective asked. Lestrade's eyebrows rose so high they nearly met his hairline.

"Wha, What?" Lestrade failed to hide his surprise. Sherlock gave him a bored expression.

"Sargent Donnovan, where is she?" annoyance was evident in Sherlock's voice and only increased as he continued to speak "She has been absent from her flat as well. I thought I would ask you before I began my own investigations."

"Well she's not gone missing." Lestrade's voice was strained then he fully processed the statement "You went to her flat?" His eyes were wide.

"Yes, obviously." Sherlock snapped "It was Friday night." Sherlock missed Lestrade's expression as he stared off with a sigh, his hands in his pocket. "And she has yet to answer my text…" He added with a sigh, then snapped his attention back to Lestrade's exasperated visage "So where is she?"

"How am I supposed to know?" Lestrade snapped only to receive a discerning glare from Sherlock which forced him to search his mind. "Wait," Lestrade shook his head "There was an emergency, she's been working on a case and had to jet suddenly."

"She's working on a case? I was not informed of this."

"Well she does not have work with me on my cases all the time you know. She's a pretty good Sargent, even better now, and it is about time she's started to do things on her own." Lestrade shrugged over his shock "It's really about time she's considered for a promotion. Then she would not be here at all"

Sherlock blinked several times as he digested the information. Sally was working on a case, alone, and she did not ask for his help. She was capable, and even facing a possible promotion. What would that mean? How would that affect his Friday nights, their game, and those quiet evenings in? Would she leave now that she apparently had no more use of him? He shook his head from his thoughts and was just about to press Lestrade for more information but a chime from his mobile stole his attention. He scanned the text. "Your victim was killed in self-defense, find his wife." He said suddenly as he turned to leave.

"Wait, what's going on?" Lestrade stopped him.

"I solved your case and now I am on recess. Problem?"

"I mean what is going on with you and Donnovan?"

Sherlock stared off thoughtfully as he considered the question. He thought on his evenings with the Sargent. Most of the times, they were the peaceful segments of the week. Sally would just work at her breakfast table with a cup of coffee at her side and Sherlock was allowed the peace to just sit silently and think for hours uninterrupted. They were not all quiet nights of course, some nights they would argue, especially after a case, but it was never anything hostile never as close to what it was before. It was an insightful and stimulating debate between somewhat like minded peers. Sally had her flaws but Sherlock enjoyed the contrast. Then there was that one night, that rare occasion Sherlock found himself playing his violin to, surprisingly, a very appreciative audience.

"I learned how to shoot at fifteen, but before that I played the violin." Was Sally's casual response to Sherlock's surprise and Sherlock filed that little unknown fact about the Sargent in the well maintained files of his mind palace. He never stopped to wonder why Sally had a place there at all, it just sort of happened. The thought of deleting it never once crossed his mind. But what did all this mean? What exactly as going on with him and Sally? Sherlock blinked out of his thoughts, and considered the new information. She had taken a case and kept it secret, only informing him of her absence now at her return. What did that mean? Why did that matter?

"Hell If I know." Sherlock turned once more to leave and was not interrupted in his exit.

Sally met him at the door. Her curly hair was pulled up, still wet from her shower. She wore a towel around her neck to catch the water and was dressed in light comfortable clothing which meant she had no plans of leaving for the rest of the evening. Sherlock noted all these things as he stepped into her modest flat. His eyes took in the scene before him. Everything was exactly as he had last seen it, not one thing out of place. Had she been gone longer than he missed her?

"Sorry for jetting like that something big came up. I had hoped to be back by Friday, but that did not happen." Sally said with a sigh then turned into her kitchen. "Do you want something to drink?" She was being unusually hospitable, it was almost distracting.

"A case." Sherlock said suddenly. "You are working on a case." the betrayal was evident in his tone and at it Sally's eyes widened. She did not expect that. Lestrade was back, it should not matter to Sherlock if Sally took on a case on her own or not. But apparently it did, and she had no idea how to respond.

"I guess I am." She said simply.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Sherlock assumed she had been gone for almost a week. "We could have finished it by now." With that Sally frowned. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that he was unintentionally rude, so his insult to her skill was probably, unintentional, even if it was genuine. She blinked several times before she finished her reminders and returned to her cheek.

She could snap at him reminding him that she owed him no explanation, that he was not her superior or even her co-worker, and that everything he was allowed to do was because _they_ allowed _him_. But something in his tone delayed her. Why did she sense betrayal? She shook her head from these thoughts and fought the soft feelings that attempted to emerge.

"Forgive me." Came her sarcastic drawl "I was not aware of the apparent fact that I should now report all my actions to you."

"Well now you are." Came Sherlock's too assured reply which incensed Sally.

"Excuse me? If I want to work on a case alone, I can work alone. I don't have to tell you everything."

"I never said you did, I only asked why. It obviously would have gone a lot faster if you had involved me."

"Maybe I did not want to involve you."

"Well, why not?"

"Because this is my case, and I am very capable of finishing it without your help." Sally snapped and it suddenly became clear to Sherlock. He tilted his head back as all the pieces feel in order.

It seemed utterly familiar but oddly unexpected. Why unexpected? He wondered, his mind raced "I see" he pulled in his bottom lip to withhold a frown. "I see" He said again more to himself as he scanned the flat for some sort of escape. A truce had been broken it seemed. Sally had intentionally left him out. She had exclude him because he was different in the same way her peers excluded her, intimidated by her ability. He could not help but feel a bit betrayed by one he had assumed kindred. As he scanned the flat, he wondered if he even still welcomed after such a treachery.

Sally could not remain stern in her haughtiness after witnessing the obvious struggle in the consulting detective. He actually looked crestfallen and it unbalanced her, but what was she supposed to do about that? This was her case and- she took one more glance toward the crestfallen Sherlock then sigh. She placed her coffee cup down with another sigh. "What do you expect me to do? Call you the minute I start something new? I am not going to allow myself to be crippled by depending so strongly on you."

"That's not what I want." Sherlock said "I never aspired to cripple you."

"Then what do you want? An amazed audience to feed your ego? Because I'm not that, I never was, and I never will be."

"Yes I know and I don't want that either." Sherlock snapped then with a sigh he sank onto her sofa "I just wanted to go with you." He examined his words as he knew Sally would, she would not understand his reasoning, and he was fine with that. He would never want to willingly admit his true purpose, his true desire, not to be left out not to be excluded, and based upon their cautious truce, he had hoped she already knew these things. With a shake of his head he accepted his assumption to be incorrect and registered the Sargent as she took a seat near him.

"I did not mean to exclude you." She said simply. "Well at least, not in a spiteful way. I just want to finish something on my own."

"Why can't I help?"

"Because you'll steal it before I have the time to properly consider it."

"Yes, and while you are considering it the suspect runs wild and claims another victim."

"Not in these cases. These cases are closed." Sally said simply "I have more time and less distractions. This is how I earn my worth, while you are around."

"A cold case..." Sherlock said to himself "Why would you consider those?"

"Like I said this is how I earn my keep while you are around." Sally said with a shrug. "It's like unfinished puzzles. All the pieces are there, I just have to figure out which ones are missing and how to connect them."

"Oh…" Sherlock stared off as it sank in "Oh, that's brilliant actually." His eyes widened "Yes, let's do it."

"No." Sally raised her hands before his excitement could overcome him "No this is my case, these are my cases. Back off."

"What? Why can't we-"

"No Sherlock. You're not needed here go work on the important ones." Sally waved her hands dismissively "You're too valuable to be distracted."

"I thought you were not going to appeal to my ego."

"I'm not" She said quickly. "I just don't want your hands in my cases."

"Well why not?"

"Oh hell this again!" Sally pressed her fingers against her temples. "Look, working on these cases maintain my sanity and my passion for this job altogether. The reason I had to result to such cases is because you solve everything you put your hands on less than five minutes completely ruining the art. And so I am here, this is my space. I'd let you join it, but I don't want you to ruin it, this is not an insult, this is me maintaining sanity."

"Oh so I suppose I should just take the idea of me ruining the art of something I am also passionate about as a compliment then?"

"Yes of course." Sally mimicked his assured tone from earlier and Sherlock looked as if he were about to throw a fit. She wondered if he really would. He was such a brat. But there was some charm to it all, maybe she could allow him to join her, as long as he promised not to ruin it. She took one more glance at the fuming Sherlock, Then finally she relented. "Fine." Sally said then raised her hands "You can join me but you do it on my terms."

"Your terms." Sherlock scoffed

"Yes, my terms." Sally snapped back "I am the only one with permission to access to these files, not even Lestrade can let you in without a lot of grief if I don't want him to. So yes. My. Terms."

"Fine" Sherlock scoffed again "And what exactly are your terms?"

"I'm not going to tell you what I am working on." Sally said simply then took a sip of her lukewarm tea.

"What?"

"I'm not going to tell you, but you can participate if you like."

"That does not make any sense."

"Of course it does, you want to help and I don't want your brilliance to ruin the case before I can solve it. This is the best solution."

"It sounds like you're enjoying this, who is the freak now?"

"Still you, I'm just trying to advance my skills, maybe get promoted while I'm at it."

"Or unwind."

"Say what you want, do you want to be a part of this or not?"

"And why would I agree to this?"

"Because you like the challenge." Sally said confidently and for one moment her eyes gleamed. Sherlock tilted his head back, the corners of his mouth turned up. A small began to dawn on him then she began to speak once more. "How about solving a crime, you don't even know about? Finding veiled murderers of veiled victims. It's a puzzle within a puzzle. Sounds "fun" right?"

"Indeed." Sherlock smirked.

"I won't tell you anything, and you can't cheat and hack my computer or something like that. Just come along and see if you can figure out what I am doing."

"And if I figure out what you are doing? Then what?"

"Then you can attempt to solve it before I do."

"Attempt?" Sherlock scoffed. Sally rolled her eyes.

"Yes, attempt."

"Yes, Yes, whatever" Sherlock waved off her comment "Let's get started." He scanned her flat again "You just returned from Belgium not much of a lead there but it is a start."

Sally restrained herself form being amazed at his observation, anyone could read someone's mail and figure out where they have been.

"It was the fry's wrapper hanging out of your coat pocket. You should consider taking care of the grease stains soon." Sherlock said in that matter of fact tone that never failed to irritate Sally. She stood and turned from him. She would not be defeated. Not today. Because she had won, this was her case, she was in control and for a change things would finally go her way.

"We will leave in thirty minutes. Get ready." Sally turned into her room.

Sally scanned the pastries in front of her with a smirk. She knew she had him. She glanced back at the consulting detective who was no doubt taking in everything around him, trying to place it in neat folders to figure out the case they were working on which is why she smirked. During their time out she had only done one productive thing for the case she was working on and the rest was play time. She wanted a drink at a particular coffee house and so she went there, then she wanted a new suit from a particular tailor and so she took a look. She might have talked to the tailor's assistant a little longer than normal, and asked a few semi-important questions while she made Sherlock try on a new suit for the sake of maintaining their stealth. Those questions may have been really important to her investigation, but Sherlock would never know. Hopefully he was too distracted by her other seemly random stops to figure out her case before she was ready to let him.

"All done here." Sally announced then bit into her pastry. "You didn't get anything at all?"

"I don't eat while I'm working." Sherlock sigh "Although at the pace you are going I may starve before we finish."

"This is true." Sally said with a nod. "You sure you don't want to give up? I'm pretty sure Lestrade could use the help."

Sherlock scoffed. "Let's go, what is the next string of this harebrained investigation?"

"That wasn't very nice." Sally feigned hurt and for once Sherlock was the one to roll his eyes. She smirked. "Our next part comes into play in about three hours. We need to visit this, rather," Sally frowned "interesting club. I actually need your help here because nature has not bestowed upon me your gifts. I'll text you the address. Try and dress the part."

"What exactly is my part?"

Sally shrugged as a cab pulled in front of her "Single guy with nothing to do on a Saturday night looking for fun." She turned to leave "Oh and our suspect is a male, so dress nice. Ok bye." the cab sped away before Sherlock could get one word in. She knew he would come, there was no way he would give upon the case so easily. She secretly hoped that he would, because as much as she did not want to admit it at the moment, she really did need him in this aspect, and was a little happy he decided to join her. With that thought in mind sally crossed her fingers and returned to her flat to review her files and prepare.

Her curls were pulled in a tight topknot away and off her bare shoulders and the rest of her slim frame was wrapped in a little black dress with moderately comfortable heels which she would be able to run in, and her badge hidden beneath her tight outfit. Sally always came prepared when she was undercover, never know when you have to chase someone down. And as for her companion, well she tried not to look at him too much to preserve her pride, because he was well, slightly dashing.

Sherlock had smooth his unruly curls tightly back which released the full view if his unique face, unlocked its drastic features, and allowed those alluring, captivating eyes to roam and mesmerize unhindered. It was as if he were release from the formfitting suit and crisp pressed shirt to a sleek long sleeved muscle shirt with firm fitting trousers. It was simple but captivating, it looked as if he had just stepped out of a high fashion magazine, which nearly made Sally paranoid. Did he knew more than he should about her case already? No, that was not possible, he's just naturally this attractive- What! Sally killed the idea.

Sally blinked as she shook her head from her thoughts. She did not have time for this. She had to keep her cool. But she could not help but berate herself for not noticing this exquisite form beside her all this time, maybe she wasn't as good at her job at she thought. She shook her head again, she really did not have time for this. Then a low timber beside her ear stunned her.

"Sally I think we had best begin with that security guard over there, if my research is correct he has a history of…" Sherlock's voice trailed off, Sally's knees almost weakened in an attempt to swoon.

"No!" Sally shoved Sherlock away abruptly. "You don't have to whisper in my ear." She snapped hands still outstretched.

"Then how else are we supposed to communicate over this volume?" Sherlock snapped back.

"What?" Sally snapped proving Sherlock's point about the volume. Sherlock took Sally's wrist and as he lowered her separating arm he could not help but notice that her pulse began to rise. He glanced at her and even in the dim lighting noticed her cheeks darken. He leaned in to speak once more and noticed her eyes widen before she turned her face away. Sherlock smirked.

"What would you like me to do Sargent Donavan?" His deep voice rumbled and Sally nearly gave into her swoon before she shook her head.

"Just go stand over there, talk to that bartender and you know flirt or whatever." She waved her hands dismissively.

"And why should I do that?" Sherlock watched the effects of his proximity and his voice upon the Sargent and raised an eyebrow. Sally caught his revelation and incensed.

"Just do it." She snapped. "Our suspect is known to target tall attractive males especially brunets." Sally's hand flew over her mouth at the information she had just released. Sherlock smirked for two of his own reasons, then decided to comply. He turned to his task with another smirk and left Sally to fume at her mishap.

"I should let him get abducted." Sally grumbled to herself then took a sip of her beverage. Sherlock was the perfect bait, he had attracted almost everyone's attention and Sally knew her suspect was probably in the mist of all of that. After solving her last case with Sherlock, which involved the arrest of a working women and her handler, Sally followed her uneasy feeling and began to pursue the case on her own. She traced the victim's interactions back and found that there were other deaths similar in his wake. She then traced those victims history and found the same pattern in Belgium.

They were all attractive males, no extended families with various employments in high fashion, probably due to their appearance. She believed that she was looking for a serial killer who may have settled in London after his last attack. If she had learned his pattern well, he was still in London, and this place would be his typical hunting ground.

Sally had nearly given her case way earlier and she knew by the look on Sherlock's face that it was only a matter of time before he fully pieced it all together. She frowned at his act and glared at his head. He was probably working through the case as he sat. Sally slammed her glass down.

"Well, I guess someone's having a rough night." Came a cool response from behind her followed by soft fingers gently passing over her bare shoulders. "Want some company?" The woman asked and Sally almost rolled her eyes.

"I'm not interested." Sally said bluntly.

"Well then why are you here? And alone? Trying to play hard to get." The woman sat in front of her.

"Hardly, I'm here with a friend." Sally scanned the dark-haired woman before her then tilted her head toward Sherlock. "I'm watching his back. He's been wanting to get out for a while now, but because of the recent attack you know, a few weeks ago, he's become somewhat of a shut in. So I'm playing bodyguard." Sally watched the woman's eyes darken and a frown tugged at her lips.

"Well he won't have to worry about that." There was deep feelings within this woman's voice that Sally could not help but notice.

"What do you mean by that?" Sally pressed the woman who abruptly turned her face away in response. She pulled her hands into fist as she clenched her teeth. Sally gently touched her shoulder to gain her gaze and noticed she was shaking. "What's your name?" Sally asked.

"Trish." Came he force reply.

"Ok Trish, I'm going to need you to tell me everything you know about that last victim." Sally said seriously. She really did not like being undercover too long, it made her feel dishonest.

"Why do you need that?" Came Trish expected question.

"My name is Sargent Sally Donavan." She lifted her badge "I have been studying this case for some time now so anything you can give me on it will be helpful." Trish's eyes went wide. "I'm sorry for the lie earlier but I do not want to deceive you any longer. What do you know? And where can I go from here?"

"You are very direct."

"I have to be. I am taking this case very seriously and I want to bring whoever is behind it to justice. So if you know anything your cooperation would be greatly appreciated."

A small frown nearly broke across Trish face before she nodded. "Ok, but not here." She looked over her shoulder. "Come with me." She stood and Sally stood with her. She took one last look at Sherlock over her shoulder then shrugged, he'll figure out she was gone sooner or later. With that Sally turned and left the club with her new lead.

**A/N: That was longer than I expected, I think they might get longer as time goes by, but anyway tell me what you think ****. **

**Thanks so much for your feedback Icecat happy you're still enjoying this. Hope it only gets better as the cases start, because, (dun dun dun) they have begun. **

**So nice to have you onboard QueenNaberrie, you have great insight but I might be going a different direction, I usually tend to do what I ought not do (like writing this story lol)… And most of the times it works… I hope this still works for you and everyone else **

**Yes Eowyn, you are exactly right, and I think it is going in that direction. I can't wait to see what happens next **

**This is my first time presenting a story as it unfolds as opposed to already having it outlined, written, and edited. It is risky to write impromptu like this for me, because I'm naturally very hesitant, but the feedback from all of you is making this a very enjoyable experience. Thank you all and please let me know what you think about this chapter as well ****. I'll start on the next one and hopefully will have it up in a month (trying to work with datelines too is new but I like it so far)… **


	8. Chapter 8 - Communication

**Chapter Eight: Communication, And the Lack Thereof**

A long sigh left the parted lips of the consulting detective as he settled into his favorite chair. He rested his chin on his upraised hands then glanced at his mobile. Well it was no point phoning John he was probably preoccupied with, whatever. Sherlock would leave married life to take care of John, it was for the best but what was he supposed to do with his boredom? How selfless could he be and how long could he keep it up? Sherlock sigh again and glanced at his mobile once more.

And then there was always Sally. Sherlock shut his eyes tightly to stop his thoughts obvious inquiry of why Sally was even an option and when had she become one. He stopped that train of thought. It was a dull and tedious path to ponder. Sally had evidentially became an issue, and maybe she might have a little space in his mind palace filled with interesting boring little facts. Like the fact that red flatters her but she wears a lot of grey. So what? It was not important and not worth digging into.

Sherlock threw the inquiry over his shoulders and continued his musing. He back tracked his train of thought, what exactly had he been musing on? Oh yes, the case, the hidden case within a case. Sally had just acquired one of her biggest leads. He still had no idea for what but he had to admit it was a bit fun watching Sally try to hide her excitement and pretend that certain people she spoke to were not significant at all. He'd let her play, let her lead, it was only a matter of time before Sherlock completely patched the pieces together and solved it within a blink. It was clever, it was elegant it was so very him.

Sherlock glanced at his mobile once more. So what if it was a Wednesday night, so what if Sally was probably sitting at her office filing last minute paper work. He rose from his chair and pulled on his coat. Bothering the sassy Sargent was sure to be much more enjoyable than sitting in his flat trying to figure out her case alone. Sherlock pulled on his scarf and with a turn of his coat he left the dimly lit flat.

The smooth acoustic guitar saturated the room as the occupants lazily sipped their beverages. The red-headed woman checked over her shoulder once more then she stood from her seat in the mellow café. She scanned the occupants. None of them noticed her entrance, her conversation with the barista and none would notice her retreat. Then with one more glance toward the barista she turned and left the café in the swiftest way without seeming suspicious.

Trish had an appointment scheduled with Sargent Sally Donovan concerning the murder of one of close companions, and best clients. He was a fair model, with much potential, he could have really gone far if faith had allowed him the time. But time was stolen from him, and Trish knew much too much about that unfortunate incident to consider herself safe. It was not that Trish doubted the Sargent's ability to solve the case, she knew Sargent Donovan was well able, especially with the help of the famous consulting detective Sherlock Holmes. But the consulting detective's fame scared Trish, what if someone found out she was a witness? What if someone found out that she knew more than she should about what has been happening in London's underground? To protect herself as well as her current clients, Trish could not let that happen.

She left a note for the Sargent with as much evidence she could release without being compromised then decided to skip town. Maybe visit America? The fashion world could do without one of their agents for a while. Perhaps when she returned all this would have been cleared up. With a hopeful nod Trish climbed into a cab and left the small café for good.

With a growl Sally threw the envelope on her desk. She pressed her fingers against her eyelids as she sank in her chair and wondered if she could put a warrant for Trish's arrest for abandoning an investigation. Could she do that? Would they grant her permission? With a shake of her head Sally shoved the idea. Trish was not to be blamed for this, as always the real problem was the pain in her side consulting detective, who for some reason decided to make himself comfortable, even in her office. Sally turned her glare to Sherlock as he sat on her dark blue couch with a newspaper open in his lap.

"Well, we managed to scare that one off fairly quick." Sherlock said calmly then smiled his eyes gleamed "I do hope she was not vital to our investigation. Of course I would not know."

Sally narrowed her eyes and seriously questioned why she put up with this guy. The night Sally met Trish also known as Patricia Mulligan, the biggest lead for the case, Sally was sure that she had left the consulting detective at the bar. She allowed Trish to lead her to a hole in the wall coffee shop to speak privately. And when Trish had spoken enough for Sally to accept her as a credible witness and thank her for her help, Sherlock appeared.

"Thank you your cooperation is very vital in our investigation." Sherlock emerged from some random corner of the shop. The shop Sally which had made sure was a secluded area. The shop that Sally had made sure no one followed them to. How did Sherlock always manage to outdo her? The Sargent was too angry to properly protest, too centered on regaining her credibility and to busy assuring her witness that she would protect her statements - to even imagine attacking Sherlock.

Trish was near panicked, she thought she was being set up and it took all of Sally's will to not shoot the consulting detective for alarming her witness. But eventually Trish was calmed, and was made known of Sherlock's identity. Then suddenly she was thrilled to know that a "celebrity" would be working on the case, as if just Sally was not enough. Trish's new confidence that the case would be solved was secured and Sally's angered kindled. And even through all of that Sally still managed to keep the case a secret from Sherlock.

Through her meetings with Trish Sally had gained more knowledge on the victim and the previous ones. She learned that these were not random attacks or attacks arranged by a fascinated serial killer. These were hits. Each one of the victims were targeted and singled out. Trish did not reveal more than that especially when asked for proof but Sally had finally convinced her that she could trust her, and Trish had finally agreed to supply evidence for her claim. However when Sally arrived at their meeting point Trish was nowhere to be found. Only a note with a small flash drive was left with the barista for Sally. Sally had looked through the drive, there was not much there, well not much which she understood without Trish's help. She needed to find the woman, without Sherlock, to convince her that it was safe to cooperate and correspond with her. Sally shook her head once more. She knew however that she would probably never gain a proper meeting with Trish without Sherlock being present.

When she had acquired a second meeting with Trish, Sally did not breathe a word about it to Sherlock or anyone, but when she walked out of the venue she was scared crapless by his random appearance behind her.

"Were you there the whole time?!" Sally had asked exasperated

"Of course not, how would I have been able to hear anything from here?" Sherlock snapped back then popped his collars and suggested their next line of investigation. It was moments like those, which made Sally doubt that Sherlock was still in the dark about the case as he should be. But he did no try to steal it, so she was content for the moment.

Sherlock released an exaggerated yawn from the couch then carelessly tossed the newspaper on the floor. "This is becoming more and more boring by the minute. I had hoped this double sided mystery would entertain me for a longer amount of time than this."

"Well if someone did not scare away our witness." Sally began

"Oh this was boring long before her disappearance" Sherlock snapped "I only stayed in hopes that it would eventually get better, but I am very disappointed Sally." Sherlock snatched his phone from his coat pocket and began to scan the recent news.

"Well please don't do me any favors. You are permitted to dismiss yourself anytime you desire."

"Oh please," Came Sherlock's scoff "as if you'd manage without me."

"I have been managing quite well without your interference."

"Yes I'm sure" Came Sherlock's sarcastic drawl followed by another scoff. Sally was stopped from biting his head off by a knock at her door frame. The uniformed cop gained both of their attention. He told them there was a devastating fire then as if on cue, both Sherlock and Sally shrugged at this.

"That's not my division." Sally said simply.

"And it is quite dull." Sherlock added.

"I think you'd want to take a look." The cop said. He told her the address which made her pause.

"That's Trish's apartment." Sally's eyes were wide as were Sherlock's but for different reasons. "I'll be right there." Sally nodded to the cop who dismissed himself. She then glanced at Sherlock as he pulled on his coat.

"Finally," he said "Something fun." With that he swopped out of the office and with a shake of her head Sally followed suit.

The apartment was not completely charred most of the furniture still stood and was salvageable, but there was evidence of a struggle, which hinted more to a prior looting before the burning began. But of course that was not what captured the consulting detective's interest as he paced to and fro with his hands curled under his chin.

"Why would they take her? And stage such a stunt?" He mumbled to himself.

"Excuse me what?"

"Patricia Mulligan, obviously," Sherlock snapped "She has been abducted, and her attackers, left this place in flames." Sherlock paused in thought "What was on that flash drive?" he asked suddenly.

"What are you-"Sally withheld her remark ten sighed "What does that have to do what anything? How do you know she was abducted?"

"See there Sally, drag marks." Sherlock pointed and followed the trail pass Trish's study desk. "There must have been a struggle when she returned home, and once she lost consciousness, she was dragged out through that window" Sherlock scanned the empty desk before him "If she had released all the evidence should had to us, then there would have been no need to take her, murder would have sufficed." He leaned closer to the wall "I suppose they have her laptop as well" He observed the plug "Why?"

"So she's alive then?"

"Possibly, probably, not for long though we have to find her Sally." Sherlock pulled off his gloves and rubbed his hands together in mild excitement then caught himself at Sally's glare and sobered, somewhat. "Her neighbors may know a little bit more about her, but from the looks of it, it seems like she was a bit of a shut in." Sherlock prepared to leave "Contact her relatives there must be something else we could find out about her and maybe track her abductor before it is too late." And with that the consulting detective dashed out of the flat and the Sargent rolled her eyes before she followed suit, again.

Sally leaned over the scattered pictures on her desk. She had to admit, as always, that Sherlock was really good at gleaning information. He was certain that they were sitting on Trish's abductor which as a comforting assurance coming from him, but Sally still had the main case in mind. How did Trish's abduction relate to it? Was there actually a connection or was this random? If not then, was there really something more that Trish did not tell her? And how much danger did all of this get her into? A tap at her door frame pulled Sally from her thoughts. She looked up and found Lestrade walking in her office scanning the documents before her with ease. He leaned against her desk with a shake of his head and a sigh.

"Please tell me you are here with a more stimulating case for our friendly consulting detective." Sally said.

"Nah" Lestrade shook his head "You have the biggest case right now. And to be honest you might want to keep him at your side. If this goes well you could very well be looking at a promotion."

"Then you really must take him. The last thing I want is to owe my promotion to Sherlock Holmes."

"Awe it's not so bad."

Sally held her harsh response as the consulting detective entered her office.

"America" Sherlock placed a near smoked envelope on Sally's desk "She had plans to fly to America. Why?" He leered over the desk to peer into Sally's dark eyes noticing all too well how she fidget under his gaze. "Surly you would not continue to keep the details of this case secret, considering the circumstances of Patricia's absence. This could very well mean life or death for her."

Sally eased her face back from his with a sneer. "Don't threaten me or presume to tell me what to do with my case. You are only here because I allow it-" She was stopped by another knock at her doorframe. Three pairs of eyes turned to the six-foot five, dark-skinned, muscular man standing at the door.

"Sargent Donovan?" His deep voice inquired and Sally's cheeks heated as she motioned for her identification "I was told you could help me." He had a deep American accent, Sally half expected him to call her ma'am. His well-defined muscles were visible though his tight black short-sleeved shirt which accented his broad shoulders and exposed his strong neck. Sally's gazed lingered there. Then Sherlock cleared his throat.

"Really Sally," Sherlock Scoffed

"Shut up." Sally snapped and turned her eyes away as Sherlock blocked her view of the attractive male and shielded him from her gaze.

"It seems Sargent Donovan is otherwise occupied." Sherlock snapped "You would do best taking up your issue with the detective inspector." Sherlock raised his hand to silence the man's protest "Do not be dismayed, Detective Inspector Lestrade is much more capable than he appears. He is also less occupied and more qualified to deal with, whatever it is your problem may be." Sherlock waved his hand dismissively then made to turn back to Sally.

"No, I need to talk to Sargent Donovan." The man said with more force. Sherlock turned to the challenge and glared at him. He opened his mouth to respond to said challenge but sally raised her hands finally getting ahold of her bearings.

"How may I help you?" Sally walked around the glaring Sherlock.

"It's about Patricia Mulligan Ma'am." The man said as he walked fully into the office.

"Yes and?" Sally motioned for him to continue speaking.

"I'm the reason why she's missing." He said and there was a pause before Sally continued.

"What's your name?" She asked.

"I'm sorry, it's Taylor, Taylor Brown" He took Sally's Hand in a firm shake and she secretly commended herself for not swooning.

"Well, have a seat Taylor," Sally managed to maintain her professionalism "Let's talk about what you know" Sally said completely ignoring Sherlock's scoff. "If you think you have a better lead Sherlock you are welcome to go try it." Sally said over her shoulder. Sherlock pulled on His coat.

"I just might." He said "Much more preferred than watching a highly trained professional drool over some random specimen.'

Lestrade snickered which earned Sherlock's glare.

"Sorry mate." Lestrade held up his hands. "It's just um, entertaining. Watching you two communicate..."

"Well why don't you stay and watch these two communicate while I go do something productive." Sherlock pulled on his scarf and with a sharp turn he left the office.

"Well that was pleasant" Lestrade took a seat beside Sally who shook her head.

"Don't mind him," She assured Taylor "He has serious issues. Now let's get started. How do you know Trish?"

"He's an athlete." Lestrade sigh "An athlete who flew all the way over from American just to tell us he knows the woman who has gone missing. Well that could have been done over the phone, or via email or something."

"There's more to it than that." Sally scanned her notes. "I think he may have told us if he had more time I really just got the feeling he was feeling us out. Whatever it is he's hiding it must be very sensitive."

"We just have to figure out how to get him to say it."

"He's already said it." Came Sherlock's' voice form he door frame and Sally rolled her eyes.

"I thought you were out." She snapped.

"I was"

"Oh boy, I'm going to sit this one out." Lestrade turned to leave "I hope the two of you have a lovely evening, if you need anything, I'll be in my office."

Sally watched Lestrade leave ten turned back to Sherlock. "Well, what do you mean you were out?"

"That does not really matter now does it?" Sherlock earned Sally's glare then shrugged it off "he said everything we needed to know for now. Patricia was the agent of his companion who is now dead and three days after he contacted Patricia about his friend's death she showed up missing as well. There. So whoever has Patricia must be linked to our athlete, whose neck you are extremely fascinated with. Do you always daydream about strangling your informants?"

"That's not important." Sally packed her bag then turned to leave her office and Sherlock followed her.

"It's just an observation."

"I don't need your observations."

"You have a fixation with strangulation, you stared at his neck almost the entire time."

"Shut up. And it's not a fixation with strangulation." Sally impatiently pressed the elevator button until it opened with a ding.

"Well why else would you stare at his neck, can't think of any other kinks that would fit your character." Sherlock followed her in the elevator and Sally groaned.

"I just like strong necks." She snapped. "It's something about them." She sighed as she turned to Sherlock. "There is a beauty to it" She pressed her neck as her eyes passed over Sherlock's bare neck slowly she raised her hands to run over the near invisible freckle that marred his neck. "There's beauty in the strength" her hands passed over his Adam's apple then she found another freckle and realized for the first time that Sherlock Holmes had a very beautiful neck. The silence set in as she gazed at it and her fingers ran over the freckles once more. Then the elevator dinged and the doors opened.

Lestrade stilled as he took in the scene before him. He looked from Sherlock to Sally, then from Sherlock's neck to Sally's hand and nodded to himself. It seemed about right, he knew she'd crack one day and try to kill him, but he just always assumed it would be with her gun but strangulation works as well. It was just nice to have things back to normal. With a too happy smile on his face Lestrade chummily stepped on the elevator and pressed the button. He rode down with a smile all the way home actively choosing to ignore the intimacy that could have been inferred from their pose. Nope things were back to normal, and any seemly intimate moments between the two foes was not normal. So there was no intimacy and Sally was just trying to kill Sherlock, see, normal. Lestrade was determined to believe that and told himself that all the way to his flat.

With a final click Sally placed her gun down. She scanned her empty flat and resisted the urge to sigh once more. There was certainly something more productive than sighing she could partake of, she just could not figure out what. In her idle time she had cleaned out her cabinets, her fridge, and her bedroom then finally she had cleaned one of her guns but she was still idle and her flat was still empty. It was only then when she had nothing else to do, that the horrible thought dawned upon her. She was waiting for Sherlock.

Sally shook her head at the thought, it was clearly absurd, but it was true. She was actually bored and even though she had a case to occupy her she was still unease because she was actually waiting for Sherlock. Where was he? He was usually sprawled out on her couch on Friday nights but for some reason his presence was lacking. Sally almost considered texting him. But no that would cross a line. Some line some boundary she had placed up that she was not really quite sure where they were but she knew for a fact that texting him of his whereabouts was surly one of those rules she would not break.

Even as Sally cemented this rule in her being she glared at her phone and tried to talk herself out of it. Why shouldn't she text him? He throws a fit the moment she does one thing out of schedule. Didn't she have the right to do the same? Sally glared at her phone and assured herself that she was not going to text him. Then suddenly it lit up and began to buzz.

"Ah he didn't have to call me to tell me he was going to be late. I don't care" Sally scoffed half relieved but when she looked at her phone she failed to recognize the number that called her. She had never seen that number before and so timidly she picked it up and placed the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

"Sargent Donovan you got to help me." Came the rushed American accent over the phone and Sally was instantly on alert.

"Taylor where are you what's going on?" Sally grabbed her coat.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you everything today. I was scared but now I feel like I'm being stalked. This is too dangerous you have to help me."

"Tell me where you are." Sally's tone turned urgent she could tell Taylor was on the move by the sound of his breathing and the outside noise of the street.

"I don't really know."

"Street names Taylor I'll be there soon and send someone nearby just get to safe spot and don't move." Sally began to write the information down as Taylor described his location but then his voice grew panicked. "It's ok just get inside calm down-"Taylor's line went dead before Sally could finish. Sally stilled for a moment, but then reality caught her and she called in to request backup before she grabbed her gun and her coat and rushed out of her flat.

The police managed to get to the football player before he could be taken, but most of the damage was done. Taylor was beaten within an inch of his life, but still somehow remained conscience. When Sally arrived to the scene she was ushered directly to him because he refused to be carted off to the hospital until he had words with her.

"I need to talk to you Sargent Donovan." Taylor's strained voice pushed out as Sally neared him.

"Yes, but maybe when you're not headed to the hospital."

"No now." He tried to sit up but was prevented by the straps around his torso. Sally motioned for him to calm down. He settled and breathe deeply as he began to speak. He referred to Trish, and Christopher, the man who was murdered and then directed Sally's attention to the files Trish had given her. He told her to open it, a specific one in a specific way and briefly explain why before the EMS could delay no longer and cart him off. Sally thanked him and promised to visit him if she had more questions but he hardly heard her as he feel into unconsciousness.

The Sargent returned to her office and fell into her chair as she slowly processed the information Taylor had released to her. The information which may have caused him his life, and Trish's, and certainly the primary victim. Her brows crossed, could it be that horrible? Could the files she possess really expose everything Taylor had hinted? Underground trafficking with channels all throughout America, and some in Europe. Politicians, businesses, important figures on both sides, steeped in this corruption. Highly paid performers, actors, models and athletes all victims of these crimes but well paid to keep their mouth shut. It smelled like pure fiction, but Sally knew she could not discount the confession until she reviewed the files once more.

She held the flash drive up and strengthened her resolve determined to make this case which would make her. When she followed Taylors instructions it was easy to find the documents he mentioned but it was not enough, Sally needed hardcopies she needed clear proof and then the door to her office swung open.

"Found her." Sherlock announced throwing an envelope on Sally's desk then announced a location before he swept out of the office. "Well?" Sherlock turned to the unmoved Sargent. "Are you coming?" He asked impatiently.

"What are you even talking about? I have bigger things-"

"Patricia, I found her." Sherlock said with a gleam in her eyes.

"How?" Sally could not help but ask as she rose from her desk.

"I followed the breadcrumbs." Sherlock held Sally's coat open and she slid her arms through "I could tell by the route Taylor was taking that he was being chased, led to the suspect's desired location. Once I picked up on the trail I searched for all crimes located in that area, and all the warehouses. It didn't take me long to find her after that."

"Where is she now?" Sally followed Sherlock out of her office.

"In very dire state, I thought you would want to see her before we carted her off to the hospital."

"Yes." Sally nodded as she followed Sherlock out of the station and into a cab her heavy with emotion. "But first, tell me where you found her." She asked and with a nod Sherlock disclosed.

.

Trish's condition was far worse than Taylor but Sally could not be dismayed by it too long. She had her team sweep the entire warehouse and somehow she knew she held the information, and the evidence she needed to expose and convict the ones behind the organization which was responsible for these crimes. As the dust settled the weight of what she had in her possession threatened to overwhelm her. But when she took one more look at Trish and remembered Taylor, she forgot her fears then with a swift goodbye to the consulting detective she climbed into her car and retreated to her flat to fully unravel and expose the corruption she had be tasked with.

**A/N: Sorry that took so long. I have been wrestling with this chapter for a while now and this is the best that I can get. I guess once the case is all done it'll fold into the bigger picture.**

**Also sorry about the once month thing, it doesn't seem like it will happen some real life stuff is going on however I will try to update more frequently in the future. **

**Icecat- So happy you caught on to the Sally falling for Sherlock's bod n voice. Hehehe, was trying to work that in more in this chapter, but meh maybe next time. **

**ForThoseWhoLikeToMove – Hope this chapter works for you, the thought that bad things would happen seems to be the trend, but honestly I just wasn't bold enough to take it there yet. Rest assured, the day is coming! And it maybe very soon! Haha! (that was my epic laugh btw) **

**Xxyzz – Hope you're still excited and thanks for the review. **

**Ok guys working on the next chapter now, and hope you enjoyed this one. It's been real. **


	9. Chapter 9 - Betrayal

**Chapter Nine: Betrayal **

"Loyalty?" Came the condescending scoff "Sentiment, little brother?"

"Not sentiment, or any of that." Sherlock shooed the bait away with a flick of his wrist from his chair. "I'm just not interested."

"Not interested?" Mycroft raised an eyebrow "My sources tell me that you have been partaking of a little game."

"Piss off."

"Part of this game involves solving a case with no name, no suspects and no leads, only the victims are known."

"Yes and any attempt to uncover the information in a crafty way is disqualification."

"Yes I know your terms." Mycroft smirked "but what I am giving you is higher than that, and it breaks none of your silly rules."

"I do not want your help Mycroft."

"Oh? Is it because you have already figured it out? You're just playing along to humor your playmate then? Are you afraid of losing another partner?"

"I know nothing of what you suggest."

"Oh I believe you do." Mycroft glared "And if you do nothing you will find loosing not only your playmate but much more at the damage all this can cause."

"How can an unsolved Sargent's case reek such havoc on her life?" Sherlock's brow rose as he sat up from his couch "And why do you care? Ah, matter of national security." Sherlock threw the idea over his shoulder then began to lay down but paused "But how?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Mycroft smirked to himself. "I'd even consider letting you deduce it if we had the time – but we do not." His lighthearted cheer disappeared within moments "Sargent Sally Donovan has incriminating evidence in her hands which if exposed can ruin the political careers of many international leaders and businessmen. This case could very well make her career."

"So, why do I care?" Sherlock scoffed.

"You care, little brother because if this is released it could lead to serious strife within our government."

"Boring."

"Boring yes, but how dull would it be if such a message goes unheard to the public?" Mycroft took an intimidating seat before his brother. "What if that bell ringer suddenly disappeared, and was highly discredited by her past actions? What of justice then?"

"You would do all that just to protect your corrupt superiors." Sherlock's eyes narrowed in disgust.

"I am appalled, but you never were one for thinking. Of course not Sherlock." Mycroft snapped "I would do nothing of the sort. The fact of the matter is that someone else will try to cover this up, and they will succeed if this information is not presented by a creditable and unmovable source." There was a heavy silence in the room. Sherlock pulled his hands under his chin and exhaled deeply.

"What do you want me to do?"

"You know what you must do."

"You want me to ruin Sally's one good chance of making a name for herself by stealing the evidence and presenting them myself."

"It's for her own good, I will even give you the major contacts for this whole system."

"Don't bother,"

"Many have worked really hard to get what that Sargent now holds in her little office, it would be a shame to them and all who have suffered at the hands of this syndicate for the perpetrators not to be brought to justice."

"Yes but I cannot be involved."

"This is bigger than your little game Sherlock." Mycroft snapped. "People have suffered long enough, now it is time to take the rubbish out and start afresh."

"And you suppose I am the person to do that?"

"You could be." Mycroft stood "If not for what is that… yes sentiment." Mycroft ignored his brother's heated glare as he made his way to the door. "Good afternoon little brother." With a swing of his umbrella, "News may have gotten around already that an unnamed Sargent now holds information which can possible compromise many political figures. I shudder to think of the desperate acts one might perform to release said unnamed Sargent of such evidence." Mycroft turned and left the flat.

Sherlock released a long sigh and glared at the point of his brother's exit. He pressed the bridge of his nose, Mycroft's warnings rang in his head as well as his taunts. Sentiments. Sherlock stood abruptly. He scanned his mind and questioned the possibilities. Sentiment for the somewhat clever, sharp-tongued, trigger happy Sargent. Sherlock smirked as he turned to his violin. Sally Donovan was not a very likely candidate for his sentiments or anyone else's for that matter.

She was bitter, cold, distant, and unattractively ambitious. He paused in his thoughts, but she was clever, somewhat, and the strength of her will, her sheer determination was somewhat appealing. She was not afraid to be blunt, a trait uncommon in most females and yet sometimes she still managed to color code her lipstick with her finger nail polish. The shade was almost always a dark brown, but it was still a curious trait. What was Sally Donovan? Sherlock wondered as if he had come upon a new species. Why hadn't he considered studying her before?

What was Sally Donovan? The consulting detective contemplated once more as he picked up his violin bow. Then the answer hit him squarely. Dead. His eyes widened at the realization. The images of Sally hovering over her hand meticulously painting her finger nails began to fade. Sally Donovan was dead. The image of Sally cleaning her gun began to fade as well as the realization sank in.

Sally was to be unknowingly hunted for the evidence she would not release on her life, and her hunters would succeed if Sherlock did not play along. Sherlock predicted that Mycroft would remove his protection over the Sargent as a threat for him to act if he stalled any longer, and if Sherlock still did not respond to the challenge Sally would be allowed to die. Her death would be just an addition to the crimes of the corrupt syndicate. Then the effort on the syndicate would be exposed as the late honorable Sargent's greatest work. Sally would achieve her fame, her name would be made, but the price would be her life, and Mycroft would allow this to happen if Sherlock did not intervene.

A scowl began to form on Sherlock's face as his brother's taunt resurfaced. Yes, sentiment. But sentiment would not prevent him from acting, instead it forced his hand. Did Mycroft know this when he taunted him? Sherlock pushed it off as insignificant as he considered ways for Sally to finish this case sooner without him interfering, stripping away her big break or proving his brother right.

Sally scanned the documents on her desk then took another sip of her dark coffee. She had the digital files but nothing beats having the hardcopies right there in her hands. Photographs, legal documents, hits, and blackmail attempts all there. It was sure to make her case, it was sure to make her name. But as the weight of it all began to settle on her she started to feel breathless. How could she handle such responsibility?

She shook the doubt from her curls. Sally Donovan did not crack under pressure. But so much pressure, how could she not?

A knock at her door stole her attention. She placed the hardcopies down, removed the flash drive from her computer then slipped it into her pocket as she approached her door. She peered into her peephole and sighed with relief at the curly haired man who stood there. She almost smiled as she opened the door and he all but barged in.

"Do appointments mean anything to you Sally, really?" Sherlock entered the flat waving his hands. The shocked Sargent regarded him curiously and his eyebrows rose exasperated. "It's Friday night." He snapped. "You can't possibly expect me to take you out while you're wearing that can you?"

"Wha?" Sally scanned her attire she was dressed as she normally was then her head snapped up "I never said we were going out."

"No, I did." Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"When did we have this conversation?"

Sherlock raised his phone and flipped through all the unanswered text. "Seriously Sally."

Sally groaned "I don't have time for this right now." She turned to her desk.

"Oh please as if one night could hinder your findings."

"Sherlock, why are you bothering me?" Sally groaned again "You can't just go somewhere else this Friday night?"

The question rang in his head as he peered down at the Sargent. He should really let her continue, he should not distract her, but his brother's warning remained. Mycroft had visited him twice within the week to take the case from Sally. It was easy to push him off the first visit, but the second left its mark on Sherlock's psyche. It did not help that Sally had not been paying attention.

Sally's life had been endangered twice within the week due to the evidence she kept. Her office had been raided her car severely damaged. These were accidents made to look as if they were random, but Sherlock saw the pattern. He knew the only place left to hit was her apartment, and he was not going to stand around and wait for that to happen. He had to get Sally out before it was too late, and he had to let the attackers see him with the evidence before they set another raid against the Sargent.

During his second visit, Mycroft had politely informed Sherlock of his role in keeping Sally's identity secret. He then mentioned a random tea with a corrupt official, and the official's pointed questioning about the Sargent. When Sherlock questioned Mycroft's response to the official's questioning he was met with a shrug.

"I was certain you had already taken the case from her little brother, so I told him everything he wanted to know." Mycroft said simply with a not so hidden smirk then bid his farewells.

Sherlock knew his brother was forcing his hand to act and he would deal with him later. But the current stakes were too high to play with. He had to get Sally out, he had to get her evidence out before it was too late. Sherlock scanned the Sargent's house as she returned to her desk and with a shake of his head. Desperately out of bright ideas he approached her, took her arms and pulled her to himself.

"What the hell are you doing?" Sally frowned at being caught off guard and her position wrapped tightly in the consulting detective's arms was a curious one.

"Inviting you to a charming evening under the stars with me as your handsome escort."

"And why would I want that?" Sally snapped then fell into the enchanting eyes before her as Sherlock's face neared hers.

"Must it always revolve around what you desire Sally?" Sherlock noted the Sargent's flushed cheeks as he neared her. Her body went limp in his arms ad with a hidden smirk he tested how far he could go and brushed his lips gently against hers.

Sally stilled at his affection, shocked, but when Sherlock did it again her knees weakened as her weirdest fantasy came true. She was kissed by the consulting detective, and she actually kissed him back. Her hands found the nape of his neck and his slid smoothly down her back, into her open pocket then relived her of the prized flash drive. Sally noticed none of it as she was kissed breathless. She pulled back with a sigh, her skin was covered in goosebumps.

"Wow." Sally muttered to herself and earned a deep chuckle from the consulting detective. "I…" She stopped then opened her mouth to speak once more but Sherlock placed a finger over her lips.

"Shhh." He said softly "Go get dressed." Came his smooth whisper and mutely Sally nodded then slipped away into her bedroom.

Sherlock watched her retreat into her room and at the click of the door he knew after all this was over, he was probably going to get shot. Accepting the affirmative he turned to the desk and the window behind it. He raised the blinds then turned to the evidence and pointedly began to make a show of packing it up. He even grabbed her laptop for safe measures. Whoever was watching Sally's house would know that he took the files.

Sherlock left the house, climbed into the cab that waited outside for him then phoned his brother. "I have the information in my possession. Secure her as promised while I finish this case properly." With an acknowledgment from the other end the cab took off as the consulting detective set to work in the backseat.

"Several politicians were arrested for trafficking and sex crimes which linked hundreds of celebrities and athletes going back to the early nineties. The celebrities are victims of these crimes and due to the nature of the crimes their names cannot be released. Federal investigators are continuing to look into this vicious syndicate for any more links but for the time being the media praises London's very own consulting detective Sherlock Holmes for his-"

Sally turned the channel with her remote then glared at yet another news coverage of Sherlock's "amazing" findings. She turned it again only to run into another coverage finally in her rage she turned off the television and threw her remote at it. She was fuming. Fuming with rage, disbelieve, betrayal, remorse, and a bit of heartbreak.

She shook her head. Sherlock stole her case, he actually stole her case. Sally always said he stole their cases, but never had he actually stole one. It was always his intellect all his facts were uncovered by him and the only person he could actually credit was himself. But not this time. This time she had actually done all the work, pieced the puzzle together the best she could and was in the process of finishing it, then he showed up in his charm and pulled it right from under her nose.

It hurt her. It actually hurt her. But even more painful was the way he executed his steal. He kissed her. He held her in his arms and made her believe he was interested in her, even set up a false date, only to get the information. Sally remembered how it felt to be in his arms, to be held so tightly and kissed so exquisitely, it had been a while since she was shown such affection. She was promised a night of charming allure, and she believed it which made her lose focus, but for that moment none of that mattered. However her heart fell when she walked out of her bedroom the flush still on her face, dressed in her finest only to find her flat empty and her evidence stolen. Sally's heart sank even more just recalling that moment. She had actually thought she saw a different side of Sherlock since his return. Sometimes he seemed so human, so genuine, but it was all a farce a fiction created by her lonesome error filled mind.

Sally frowned at her faulty thoughts, because it really was her fault for considering Sherlock Holmes as anything more than a sociopath. Even if it was self-proclaimed, it rang true for the consulting detective and she was a fool for believing he was anything but that. Sally turned her television back on and turned to her movies channel. She convinced herself that the case did not matter anyway, she could never have finished that case the way he had. It was all about presentation after all. She thought of her promotion and pulled her bottom lip then fixed herself on her movies she turned to her beverage of choice then decided to lock her mind and all its regrets away for the rest of the evening.

Half of a bottle of whiskey and a few hours later there was a knock at the Sargent's door. Sally glared at her door for a moment then returned to her television. She took a deep drink. Life could wait until tomorrow, she called in sick today. At the second knock she raised the volume of her television and took a mental note of where she could easily find her gun. When the latch of her lock began to lift Sally silently cursed upon the realization that her first gun was under her bed and the second in the kitchen. Whoever it was would get in long before she had secured it.

The door opened with a creek. Sally secured the grip on her whisky bottle as her only defense only to find the bane of her existence entering her apartment with her keys nonetheless. He waltzed into her front room then dusted the rain off his long coat.

"Evening." Sherlock nearly sang in the presence of Sally's glare "Came to return a few things…" He lifted her laptop "And I swiped these, just in case you might have wanted follow me out…the other night…" He raised the keychain with her keys on it.

Sally held her glare as she tried to summon all of the anger the alcohol held at bay. She wanted to be fuming at the man in front of her, and she knew in any other condition she would, but even with her cold stare she could not summon her rage. She took another deep drink this time directly from her clutched bottle then cursed.

"Well it's great to see you too." Sherlock closed the door behind him then began to remove his coat. He turned and noticed the Sargent had not moved or lessened her glare then nodded to himself. "I suppose you would like an explanation then." He hesitantly approached the sofa. "Your life was in danger Sally." He snapped simply tired of her silent games "If I had not taken the evidence then your entire flat could be leveled right now with you nowhere in sight. My brother had removed his protection over you so it was the only logical route I could take to secure your safety." Sherlock took a seat in the chair beside the sofa. "You're welcome by the way."

Sally nearly lunged at him but caught herself. It would be highly embarrassing to puke on someone in the mist an attempt to assault them she reminded her drunk mind. Instead she opted for ignoring the consulting detective until her rage returned. She noted where her guns were once more then continued to bore into the television screen before her.

Silence stretched between the pair. Sally's hand tightened on her bottle and released randomly. She wanted to hurt him but she could not muster the energy. Her head fell and shame began to taunt her. She was even a failure in avenging her pride, how original. She pulled her lips in and bit into them to kill the remorse in her being she could not cry here, not in front of him, anyone but him. Still she felt the tear run down her cheek and cursed her weakness.

"I never wanted to take this from you." Sherlock neared the Sargent "Even I could see how much this case meant to you, and what it would mean for your career." Something in his voice peaked Sally's interest and she turned her dark watery eyes to his mesmerizing orbs. He clasped her hands in his "I am truly sorry Sally." He kissed her captured hands. Sally flinched at the affections and her heart lurched then slowly without another word she pulled her hands back and curled into her sofa.

"Whatever, I guess." She finally spoke. She turned her leaking eyes from the source of her pain and rubbed them against her long sleeve. Sherlock handed her his handkerchief, she swiped it away without a thought then tilted her head back and inhaled deeply. "I can't believe this." Sally sighed "This is pathetic." She glared forward with a groan.

"Yes it is quite pathetic." Sherlock said simply. Sally redirected her glare "I cannot seem to find the humor in this film whatsoever." He stared forward toward the television. "Why is he bumbling around like that?"

"He's blind you idiot." Sally rubbed her eyes with a sigh.

"What?"

"It's a blind guy and a deaf guy, they are trying to solve a murder."

"An American film?" Sherlock released a small laugh "It appears someone has already wrote our story Sally. You of course are the blind one I'm sure. So many clues… yet you never see them."

"I'd have to be the blind one, because you most certainly are deaf." Sally bit back with an attempt to hide her smirk "So many uninvited visitations….yet you never go away." She mocked Sherlock's tone.

"Filters dear Sally, filters." Sherlock took a seat next her "And besides, you never told me to leave." He smirked.

Sally glared at him and for a moment seriously considered shoving him off her sofa. It was just a consideration. Her eyes narrowed at their proximity, how familiar this closeness between them had become during their time together. She remembered those moments in the club, that elevator ride, that breathless kiss. Sally turned from his gaze, her eyes had begun to burn again as her heart sank. "Why did you have to kiss me?" She shook her head "You could have done anything else, but why did you have to kiss me?"

"Kisses." Sherlock sigh his fingers captured Sally's chin to earn her gaze. "They can mean so many things for different people-"

Sally shoved his hand away defensively. "What did that kiss mean to you? Why did you do it?"

"Let me finish-"

"No, answer my question."

"Are you more concerned with the purpose instead of the experience?" Sherlock neared her again "Because it was quite a pleasant experience." He said seriously and noted Sally's frown.

"You kissed me, and then you left." She pulled her full lips in once more. "You took everything and just left."

"Equally painful Sally, as I explained earlier." Sherlock sigh "I had to do something that even I believed. You are practically a human lie detector none of my other tricks would have worked."

"None of your other tricks, how was that different from your other tricks?"

"I suppose because it was not a lie." Sherlock said simply but Sally shook her head in disbelief, the pieces just did not fit.

"I don't think you know what you put me through that night." The honesty in Sally's voice stuck a nerve as she recalled her rejection. "You could have done something else, anything else. You didn't have to kiss me."

"As I said, blind." Sherlock sighed "Maybe partially deaf as well…" Sherlock muttered but Sally continued.

"How I wish you hadn't. You- you stirred things in me that I had hidden for so long, and now I just feel so vulnerable." Sally shook her head at her speaking, deep down she knew she was never this honest sober, but she was not. She was intoxicated and so opening up to the man who wounded her while burying her face into his muscular chest was not such a horrible idea, and when his fingers treaded through her curls and caressed her face gently it really did not seem like a horrible idea. "Why are you doing this?" Sally could not help but ask as she gazed up into those mesmerizing eyes "Why do you keep bothering me?"

Sherlock paused and for a moment he was at a loss. He had considered that question among many others in the past few days and always came up blank. Why did he even think twice before he stole the case which saved her life? He should have acted immediately but not because it would have saved her life, but because the culprits needed to be stopped. But he had waited in steep dare he say it anxiety in hopes that Sally would finish it and figure it out before he was forced to intervene. She failed and regrettably he had to release her from the case, but why was that regrettable? He bit into his bottom lip to fight a frown as his eyes scanned the tearstained visage before him frozen in time while he mentally paced. Her question rang in his head once more, but distracted by the fresh tear that began its race down her cheek Sherlock remained silent as he ended its trail with a kiss.

Sally blinked several times before she could pull herself from her haze. Sherlock had kissed her again, and once more to her shame she had returned it. But s she considered the warmth which spread through her being, she could not bring herself to pull away. He did first, his eyes scanned her face still captive in his large hands. He looked almost panicked as if he had so horrifying revelation.

"What do I do?" Sherlock heard himself whisper it was almost terrifying to hear himself ask that question but it did not stop him for asking again. "What do I do now?" Sherlock's eyes took in every feature of the woman before him. Her moist brown eyes partially veiled by tearstained lashes over a slightly redden nose and dark pouty lips. Lips which he had kissed more than once unplanned. He kissed her again and this time Sally's fingers wound themselves in his curly hair, found the nape of his neck and pulled him closer in. He sighed at the response in relief noting her actions had answered his question. Her hands trailed further down his back in light presses each one pushed him closer to her as he feasted on her lips. The buttons were loosened on his shirt and Sally set her eyes on his previously noted perfect neck then stopped. She blinked at him several times then stood.

"You know how I feel about my front room." She said simply as she took Sherlock's hands in hers.

"Of course, how could I forget." He managed a smile as he was led into the Sargent's bedroom the door shut and latched behind them.

Sally awoke with a groan. Her head was fuzzy and her neck hurt. It was probably from sleeping at an awkward angle she surmised as she lifted herself from her bed. She paused then at the memory of skilled fingers pulling the knots out of her form and light laughter. Sally blinked several times. She scanned her bedroom and her form as the previous night's memories rushed in like a flood. Her eyes winded as her breath hitched.

"Shit." She snapped her gaze to her right and nearly sighed in relief at the absence of her bed mate. She breathe in deeply "Maybe this can pass." She said to herself "Maybe we can pretend this never happened and go back to normal." But even as she spoke that logic she knew she did not agree with it. Last night was a dream and she would pay anything for it to never end. That bitter truth frightened the Sargent. She shook her head, but the romantic ideals began to bloom against her will. Her night with the consulting detective was utter perfection and for what it's worth, she believed he felt the same way. A clatter from the kitchen told her that the opportunity to test her theory lay before her. Sherlock was still in her flat.

Sally bit her lips as she braced herself against her bedroom door. Never had she felt so fragile, so vulnerable. She always avoided the morning after conversations, hell she usually left before one could erupt, but this was her home. Sherlock was not supposed to be here anymore. Unless, her eyes widened at the thought, unless it really meant something to him. Sally let her soul sink to the bottom of her heart and indulge in her strangest fantasy. What if there could be something more? Well she would never find out by hiding behind her bedroom door. She tied her robe tightly around her, braced herself then stepped out of her bedroom.

The kitchen was silent when she stepped in. She found Sherlock staring fore longingly in her cupboard. She cleared her throat to gain his attention then he turned.

"Morning." He said simply. He was fully dressed. Sally could not help but notice how his form fitting black shirt was slightly open. Her eyes lingered there on his beautiful bare neck. "It appears that you are out of coffee." His deep voice attempted to cut through her haze. "Sally are you alright?" Came the consulting detectives inquiry and Sally blinked.

"What?" She blinked again. "What's going on?"

"Much too early for you to be spacing out Sargent, you still have a fully day ahead of you, and we're still waiting for the call."

"Call?" Sally continued to blink.

"Yes, call, the call. The call that we get every weekend which usually spins our case for the week. Honestly Sally."

"What? Why are we talking about that call right now?"

"Should we be talking about anything else?" Sherlock rolled his eyes and Sally returned it evenly.

"Right now I'm wearing only a bathrobe." She deadpanned.

"Yes and that's lovely, but you should probably consider something a bit more modest."

"You didn't say that last night." Sally killed the banter with a glare. "Or are we to pretend that it never happened then?"

There was a stretch of silence in which Sherlock considered his options. He knew for a fact that the previous night did happen, he was not one to regret it but to admit it what would that mean for them then? He could agree and pretend it never happened, but he know that would end all possibilities of it ever happening again, and he was not too sure if he liked that option. So he actually considered his answer knowing very well where the Sargent kept her weapons and what would cause her to consider using them.

"What does it matter?" Sherlock asked against his better judgement which was confirmed by Sally's raised eyebrow. "Honestly, why must we talk about it?"

"Why not?" Sally folded her arms.

"Because, maybe you won't understand." Sherlock closed the cupboard and turned form the Sargent.

"Try me." Sally's romantic ideals were starting to crumble before her very eyes, but she could not help but push it. Somewhere deep inside she wanted them to fall, she wanted to show herself that she was always right for keeping her heart shut, she was always right for staying focused on her career and freezing everyone else out. She wanted to be right so badly she could not hear the tiny sliver of hope which wanted Sherlock to win, wanted him to show her that there was something more for her than her job. Sally pushed the conflicting feeling away with a firm shake of her head. "Answer me. Sherlock." She pressed out. "Why did yesterday happen?"

The detective sighed. There seemed to be no way around it. "Well," He said "It was the best thing to do." He said simply.

"What?"

"It was the best thing to do." Sherlock said once more. "You had just lost the case of the century, the case that would have put your name in lights and herald you a Detective Inspector. I had caused that, and I actually felt horrible about it as I said yesterday." He sighed "Spending the night with you was part of me making up for it." Sherlock gave her a half smile but stilled at the daggers from her eyes. He tilted his head back in observation. "That was not the right answer, was it?"

"YOU!" Sally screeched then caught herself. "You self-absorbed, egotistical, asshole of a man!" Sally tried to reign in her rage to keep her face but she felt the tears against it before she could stop them "You!" She turned her away from Sherlock in an attempt to save her pride. She was right about him, herself began to taunt her as her heart broke. After another deep breath she finally spoke her voice was calm and icy. "Get out." She said simply then began to walk to her bathroom. "I said get out." She killed any protest "Seriously Sherlock, if you are still here when I finish washing you and the previous night off of me, I will shoot you." Sally turned to glare at him "I promise I will." She opened her bathroom door and at the call of her name she screamed "Get out!" She slammed the door shut, latched it then slid down it with a sob.

**A/N: Thanks for sticking around guys sorry for the wait and don't worry I will find a way to fix this or end this soon. That was a hard chapter to write, but it was a fun challenge, what do you think did I do it well? **

**Guest, Thanks so much for that tip on the scene transitions. I tried to work on that a little bit more in this chapter. **

**Scorpiofreak: Thank you for such an encouraging review, I was really considering throwing John in this chapter, but I couldn't work it out. Don't worry he shall appear soon! At least I got Mycroft in for the time being. **

**Thanks for reading guys, reviews are always welcomed. **


	10. Chapter 10 - Sepia Saudade

**Chapter Ten: Sepia Saudade**

A deep sigh followed by a long pause. There was a shift in the fabrics, another pause, and then another deep sigh. The observer pressed the bridge of his nose with a deep sigh of his own as he and his companion 'caught up' on their life events.

It seemed as though it has been months since John Watson spent any quality time with his best friend, the eccentric and ever enchanting Sherlock Holmes. He half expected their 'playdate' to consist of a bit more than sitting around the consulting detective's flat watching him sigh dramatically while sprawled out on his couch. John could ask what was going on, in fact he had, but the only answer he received was another groan followed by another shift in the sofa which was pretty much useless.

After literally hours of this dramatic scene played out before him, the good doctor could take it no longer. He was now quite prepared to beat the drama out of his friend so they could get on with their plans before his visit was cut short.

"Sherlock" John received only another groan "Sherlock." He stood and approached his friend "You have been there all morning, if you're not going to tell me what is wrong with you then just snap out of it so we can get things done."

"What?" Sherlock lifted his head and gave John a confused look "John what are you doing here?" He shook his head. "What are you talking about?"

"Now don't do that. You know I've been here all morning while you sulked like a gloomy teenager."

"Oh shut it John." Sherlock waved the comment off with a flick of his wrist then exhaled deeply. "You have no idea what I've been through."

"Of course not, every time I ask all I get in return is a dramatic groan of sorts."

As if on cue Sherlock groaned into his hands before he fell back against his sofa once more.

"And there it goes again." John sighed.

"Oh John, John..." Sherlock stood "No one understands me John" Sherlock walked to his fire place and leaned against the mantle and began to mutter to himself "No one can even come close… such is the curse of a superior mind I suppose. I guess it is my cross to bear…"

"Superior mind…"John made a face and prepared a retort but stopped himself. He would let the comment pass and take the small opening Sherlock gave him. "Of course no one gets you Sherlock." John said simply "It's a part of your charm."

"I suppose that should make me feel better." Sherlock muttered.

"Well maybe if you told me what was bothering you to begin with…"

"This John," Sherlock waved his hands absently and John foresaw another hour of watching his best friend groan on the sofa. "No one gets this..." Sherlock began his turn to the sofa but John intercepted it.

"No, no we are not doing that again." John blocked the sofa "Now you are going to tell me what is going on, we are going to fix it, and then we are going to get on with…" John's words trailed off as his eyes came in contact with unusually reddish marks against the normally pristine neck of his best mate. His eyes widened as the trail moved down presumably pass the collarbone of the well covered torso before him. "…what the hell…" The good doctor's eyes widened as he pulled at his friends shirt. "What," John pointed at the marks "Who- when? Seriously Sherlock again? I know we haven't seen each other in a while but you could have at least told me about this one, this time." John supposed he was being the dramatic one at the moment but he considered his reasons valid.

"John," Sherlock attempted to calm his friend but John was livid.

"Even a simple text would have sufficed." John waved his hands "A simple 'Hi John, best mate here, I'm actually not asexual, the end' would have suffice!"

"John, it just happened and you would not believe with who." Sherlock flopped in his chair "Much less understand it." He muttered to himself. "But it's over now so… who cares." Sherlock rested his forehead on his upraised hand and pressed against his temples as he considered a drink. A dark alcoholic drink. He considered a whiskey and his mind bought him back to sultry deep kisses rich with the smooth drink. He could not help the frustrated groan that escaped his lips as the memories replayed themselves in his head all over again.

John observed the scene before him and Sherlock's reaction to whatever played inside of his head and suddenly felt guilty for making it all about him. He sat in front of his friend with a sigh and leaned in to catch his glance. "Tell me what happened Sherlock." John said simply "I can't promise that I will understand. But at least talking about it may help you feel better." John raised his hand against Sherlock's retort. "Don't give me that look. I'm not going to sit here and let you bottle this up, especially when I may be able to help. So start talking."

Like a defiant child Sherlock glared at his friend. Then as the previous night brushed against his psyche, he relented. "It is truly unbelievable." Sherlock reminded his friend simply and John shrugged.

"I'm all ears." The doctor sat back in his chair and took a sip of his cold tea.

Sherlock sat back in his chair as well. "Where do I start?"

"Just start from the beginning." John said then with a playful smirk he added "Don't be boring." That earned him a smooth chuckle from Sherlock before he settled in and began to unravel what he knew John would consider the most unbelievable event ever and John listened dutifully for any aid he could supply.

The silence stretched across the living room, as one would expect after such a revelation, but John was actually un-phased, or so he seemed as he placed his empty tea cup down.

"It's actually not that surprising." John said. Sherlock blinked repeatedly at him. "I mean, yes, it should be, of course. Granting her known hatred for you and her part in… your 'death'…" John paused for a moment and let the words pass then shook his head and returned to his point "…actually you two are quite alike."

"Of course John," Came Sherlock's sarcastic response to his friend as he leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other. "Because you have always been so perceptive and insightful." He scoffed "Do enlighten me."

"Well you both need a serious attitude adjustment." John said and Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Not to mention _that_, and the supreme arrogance you both share. Think you're never wrong."

"Actually she has been proven wrong on numerous occasions."

"And your track record is completely spotless?"

"Well, more than hers… actually yours maybe to... well, maybe not"

"All this is beside the point."

"What is the point?"

"The point is, what are you going to do now?" John said "Or more specifically, what do you _want_ to do now?" He half expected another groan from his friend, but instead he received a distant unblinking stare. After a moment of enduring that stare, John came to realize that this was the part Sherlock assumed he would not understand. Sherlock did not understand what he wanted himself, and he was uncomfortable in that position. John sympathized with him, but he knew he could do nothing more in untangling that knot without feeling as though he pushed his friend somewhere he was not yet ready to venture, but he would help him get to the next step as best he could, while he waited.

"So, you left her flat afterwards, then?" John broke the silence.

"Yes" Sherlock blinked out of his thoughts.

"Why? Did you really think she would shoot you after her shower?" John chuckled lightly then paused, "Actually she probably would have."

"Yes…" Sherlock muttered with a small chuckle of his own. "She was quite upset…" He added soberly and John nodded.

"Look," John sat up "I know you don't like asking for advice, or actually taking it, but here's my offer anyway. We forget about this for today and we just do a case or something, anything to clear your head. And then, once your head is clear you revisit that morning, try to understand what exactly ticked her off, then consider talking to her about it. I don't know how important this relationship is to you, or if it is a relationship at all, but it clearly bothers you and this is just one remedy for it. That's my opinion anyway and that is all I have to say about it." John brushed the invisible dust of his knees then stood. "Now what about breakfast before we get started. I'm starving."

John was right, Sherlock noted as he retired to his chair later that evening. Their adventures had served to distract him and clear his head of the lingering sentiments from his night with the Sargent. But as the evening set in, his mind began to wander once more, and he seriously considered how to fix their situation. He stood at the thought, and questioned himself on why he wanted to fix the situation. Was there even a situation to be fixed? Would this blow over within a few days and then they could return to their normal routine? No. Sherlock shook his head, he knew they would never return to that beloved routine, even with his understanding of human emotions knew that things would never be the same.

Then the question he failed to answer appeared once more. Would he really be content if things had remained the same? After a moment Sherlock brushed the question away from his mind. It was pointless to examine something that could not happen. Facts were his only friends now, and the facts were that he had highly insulted Sally Donovan and until he cured her injuries a night in her presence was nothing more than a memory. As he sank in his chair he wondered why he could not be content with just those memories. He pressed his temples as the mocking words resounded in his head.

"Sentiment, little brother."

Sherlock blocked the image of his brother out of his head and all of his taunts. But he could not block the truth behind those words, and he was unsure if he wanted to. He could of course decide to purge himself of the burdensome plague. Become detached, cold, distant, and hardened to everything around him. Sherlock was hesitant however this time to seal off these feelings. It should only take him a few days, and he had done it before. But this time, there was no greater good, just a selfish need to be released from burdens that all humans had to bear, but that was it.

He blinked to himself as he realized his plight. Sally had made him feel, human. From the very beginning she always treated him as such. Not a genius, no and never a god, but human and even the worst human. To shut her out would be to shut out one of the few people who treated him as a person. Yes, she called him a freak, a strange human being and was she ever so honest, but she had changed over their time together and to Sherlock's dismay so did he. She had infected him with humanity and trained him in the rules as he had attempted to train her in his brilliance. He could expel her of course, and her sickness but in the end he knew he would reach the same decision as he had for John, Mary, His brother and even Mrs. Hudson. Sally had become a bond which helped identify himself and Sherlock was not too keen on releasing that bond even if it was subtly gained.

His motive was affirmed, but the question of his plan of action still lingered. With another sigh he considered the smooth dark drink swirling in a clear glass on a path to even darker lips. He smelled cinnamon then chocolate, and as he did he recalled how Sally always mixed cinnamon in her Nutella spread and he could almost taste it. Sherlock shook his head from his memories then reached for his mobile.

"How long should she be furious with me?" He said to himself "I suppose talking about it could do some good. Text? Hmm..." He considered his words carefully then opted for calling the Sargent instead but all he received was an empty ring. A bit relived, he decided it was maybe too soon to confront Sally. He would give her some time, a week at most and then when he believed she has finally cooled off they would revisit their night and sort out whatever it was that needed to be sorted out then.

The consulting detective had his share of waiting. He had allowed weeks to pass by without so much as a text from the Sargent. He felt she should have been well recovered from their misunderstanding, or whatever it was and should have contacted him by now. But she had not. So Sherlock marched into the Scotland Yard with intent to demand an explanation from the Sargent, but when he arrived at her office he found it empty.

"Where is she?" Sherlock snapped at the nearest officer. The officer jumped at the outburst then turned from the consulting detective to find Lestrade.

"There's nothing big on Sherlock so go home." Came Lestrade's irritation as he walked toward Sherlock.

"Where is Sargent Donovan?" Sherlock folded his arms with narrowed eyes.

"Not this again. How am I supposed to know?" Lestrade raised his hands "And why are you looking for her anyway?"

"You are her commanding officer and she had been absent weeks. Where is she?"

"How do you know that she's been gone?"

"Because I checked her office obviously and have kept an eye on her flat. Sally has not come near this place and she's not sitting at home. So where is she?"

"Why?" Lestrade fold his arms as his brows crossed.

"What?" Sherlock blinked "What do you mean why? Shouldn't you be concerned that she's missing?"

"I am more concerned that this is the second time we are having this conversation." Lestrade leered closer "What is really going on here?"

With an irritated scoff Sherlock turned from the detective inspector. "Absolutely useless." He muttered to himself as he made way for Sally's flat.

Sherlock arrived at Sally's flat and noted everything the same as he had left it earlier. It didn't take him long to pick her locks and make himself comfortable in the vacant home. Sally had been absent from that flat for over a week and while Sherlock had tried to enjoy the empty flat for the past week, the enjoyment ran stale and he figured it was time to attempt to locate the Sargent.

His eyes scanned Sally's well maintained rooms and noted the absence of her laptop. No matter Sherlock shrugged, he knew where she kept her desktop. He would find out where she had ran off to, and then, well he had not quite figured out what he would do after that. But he knew he would, once he found her. So he sat at her desktop and began his work.

Twenty minutes, Sherlock noted, it took him a surprising twenty minutes to break into Sally's computer the shock had taken him so far aback that he actually stopped for a minute and planned his next step. With a shake of his head he returned to his search. "Browsing history of course" he muttered to himself. Sally's history should have left hints to her whereabouts, but what Sherlock found instead was rather puzzling.

He paused as he scanned her search history. "Trace Of Rouge…" the expensive brand clouded Sally's search history and Sherlock could hardly understand why. His brows crossed as the expensive brand played in his head. On a Sargent's salary, Sally could not even hope to entertain the idea of affording assembles from this designer, she couldn't even afford their perfumes. However upon viewing her web history it seemed as though she was a frequent customer. "How is that possible?" Sherlock let the seemingly insignificant question linger in the air as his mind traveled back to one of their sleepy afternoons.

He remembered brown again, Sally standing at the counter spreading peanut butter on a slice of pumpernickel then sprinkling it with cinnamon. He saw her place her coffee cup down next to what he could recall as her last credit card bill, then his he stopped.

"Of course" he said to himself as he recalled that being the last paper credit card statement Sally had received. Remembering the huge balance she had on it he could only assume that she had kept the card, decided to go paperless by that being the last paper bill she had receive and was now paying her card online and was now using it to make unnecessary purchases from a soul sucking designer, which finally gave him the best piece of information the twenty-five minutes of his search.

He could hack into her credit card account online and see exactly what she was doing by her purchase history. With a newfound spring Sherlock modified Sally's computer password and managed to get into her credit card account in two minutes. What he saw as a confirmation of his assumption of her purchasing history, but it puzzled him all the more.

"This doesn't make any sense, she gets upset, and so she runs off and goes on an expensive shopping spree?" Sherlock began to doubt the importance of his twenty seven minute labor but paused as the sight of an airfare charge. With more digging he found the answer to that inquiry. "All the way to Belgium again? Surly no new leads with the syndicate, or maybe she's just binging on fries. Can't be good for her figure." Sherlock ran his fingers through his thick curls with a sigh "But it doesn't make any sense…" Another exhausted sigh, another shake of his head. There had to be a deeper meaning behind Sally's splurging and he was determined to find out.

It appeared as if faith favored him today, within ten minutes of his digging a new lead appeared. "Madeline Rose…" He sighed to himself as he scanned the designer and CEO of Trace of Rouge's information. It appeared as though Sally had done quite a bit of research on her as well, but the question of why still lingered I the air. Frustrated and intrigued by the amount of mystery surrounding Sally's actions Sherlock opted for the easier path for a change. He knew Sally had booked a ticket to Belgium, and from her browsing he had an idea of the few hotels she might be residing in. That information stored in his pocket without so much as a second thought he booked a ticket as well.

Sherlock surmised the only way he was going to get answers was to confront the Sargent personally. He would follow her, follow the trail of her spending, find her question her, and then once she had answered all his questions, he would figure out why he was searching for her anyway. He refused to entertain the idea that he already knew the answer because that would be against his character, but an ominous feeling lay over him that told him he would have to admit to those stirrings soon enough.

**A/N: I am very sorry that this took so long. I have been working on this chapter for quite a while, and this is only half of what I wrote. I figured this is a good stopping point the good news is I will be finished with the other half sooner than this one so, awesome! **

**Nakala, Sorry this took longer than I said but here it is, hope this was worth the wait. I love that you're following this story, it really does help it grow. Thanks again. **

**Anonion0, Thanks for your review I try so hard to keep them in character and sometimes I over think it, it's nice to know it pays off though. **

**Scorpiofreak, Thanks again for you feedback, it really is Sherlock's plight not being able to find the right words or being misunderstood that's why I was compelled to add John here. John always understands him wish I could have had him in longer. Ah well maybe next time. **


	11. Chapter 11 - Resilience

**Chapter Eleven - Resilience**

"I can't find her" Sherlock's desperate cry begged the uptight woman's attention as he frantically shook the photograph in his hands " You- You have to help me find her." His voice broke "She's all I have left but she just-she just disappeared. Why would she do that? And the collectors- the collectors are coming- oh no what if they have her? Oh no!"

"Please calm down I am doing everything I can." The woman attempted to sooth the unsteady Englishman "It is against policy, but I understand the situation." She continued to type at her computer then pause and gave a relieved sigh "Yes she _was_ here. We would have told you sooner but we wanted to protect her privacy." She glanced around "Just give me a moment" She began to type furiously at her desktop.

"Thank you, thank you so much." Sherlock cleared the stray tears from his eyes and nodded appreciatively. He maintained his appreciation as the woman continued her frantic typing for what seemed like hours. He sighed checked his watch then glanced back at her once more. Did it really take that long to locate someone, seriously she had to be one of the worst clerks ever. She looked at him suddenly as if hearing his thoughts and he gave her another pleading look then she went back to her nauseating typing. Sherlock opened his mouth to 'assist' the woman and just as he did she spoke.

"There, she appears to be in one of our suite, it was hard to locate her because her tab has been picked up by one of our exclusive clients." The woman said "What if it's a collector?" The woman's eyes grew wide as she recalled the elaborate fable Sherlock had sprung on her.

"Great what is her room number?" Sherlock asked bluntly not caring to maintain his humble façade or the story for that matter. Perplexed by the woman's sudden silence he glanced at her then gave her another pleading smile "If you may?" He managed.

The woman, still puzzled by the apparent change in the Englishman's demeanor released the requested information to him. She watched him leave with a small thanks over his shoulder unable to shake the feeling that she might have been had.

"Brilliant" Sherlock smiled began to grow over his face. Only two hours after his flight landed he had managed to trace Sally's steps exactly and had successfully located her place of residence all by following the spending on her credit card. Lovely it was, so lovely he hardly had the care to be bothered by the interesting occurrences. Sally had visited various boutiques and salons and was somehow managing to stay at a five-star hotel. Not to mention the bit of information about someone else picking up her tab, what was that about?

The questions lingered, but he supposed they could be asked later. He could go up to her room and wait for her there, but her credit card history showed that she ate at a specific restaurant at the same time every day during her stay in the city. He knew Sally is a creature of habit, he was certain he could find her there and when he did, he would ask all his questions.

Sherlock stepped outside the hotel just in time to notice an expensive black car pulled up before the hotel and the laughter ceased. The driver stepped out and opened the door and out stepped two women one carrying a large amount of bags while the other delicately pulled on her gloves.

"Oh, and," Came the rich tone from inside the car. "Do try the red one first, it is exceptionally exquisite as I designed it myself."

"Of course Madeline." Came the smooth reply of the bag-less woman who to Sherlock's surprise bared a striking resemblance to his missing Sargent. Her dark hair was straightened and pulled back from her face and her face was flushed with all the work of a suburb make-up artist. Her dark eyes were outlined her high cheekbones accented and her lips smooth brown, entrancing.

"Jennifer," the rich voice called and pulled Sherlock out of his gaze "Do hurry and assist Elizabeth to her room I will expect you back at the office in thirty minutes."

"Of course not Ms. Rose." The blushing assistant chirped "Right this way Ms. Elizabeth." She said simply and without another word the pair entered the hotel.

From Sherlock's unseen spot at the door-post he scrutinized the pair. He banished all ideas that the woman he saw before him was not Sally Donnovan then proceeded to follow them. Questions spun in his head. Who was this Madeline, and more importantly who was this woman this Elizabeth Sally so well portrayed.

He waited outside the Sargent's room for the jittery assistant to leave and once the coast was clear, Sherlock made his move. A firm knock on the door.

"Yes?" Came Sally's reply

"Ahem, Room service." Sherlock disgusted his voice.

"I didn't order any room service."

"Compliments of Ms. Rose." Sherlock withheld his snickers because he felt terribly clever at the moment. "She said it was of utmost importance madam."

There was a sigh and a rustle of clothing. Then a latch clicked and Sally opened the door. Quickly Sherlock slipped in never forgetting he was dealing with a cop and just as he suspected with in two seconds of his entry he was face to face with the end of Sally's gun.

"Great you had me worried there for a moment." Sherlock said smoothly "At least you place more value on your gun than your soul, which you have so easily sold."

"What are you doing here?" Sally's snarl rang more exhausted than she would have liked. She hadn't the energy for the amount of drama Sherlock had no doubt brought with him. "Actually, I really don't care. Just get out."

"What? No promises of shooting me? Afraid to ruin your pristine clothing I suppose." Sherlock sneered as he casually closed the suite's door then idly walked around the expensive room. "Congratulations Sally. For the first time you have me perplexed, but I supposed if I had spent a bit more time in your apartment, rummaging through your computer I wouldn't be so..." Sherlock glanced back at Sally who appeared to have given up on their conversation. She had slipped off shirt and began to pull a sleeveless red dress over her shoulders. "You run off and embrace a life totally opposite from who you really are just to take orders and live in luxury? So unlike you…"

Sally continued with her grooming seemingly oblivious to Sherlock's presence.

"Will you not answer me?" Sherlock stood behind her and observed her face in the mirror. "Or should I figure it out myself? Another game."

"We will play no games." Sally said

"Sally,"

"I really don't have time for this, so if you're done investigating, whatever it is you're investigation please just go home." Sally held the detective's gaze as his smirk slowly fell from his face.

Disbelieve bean to sink in along with the pangs of lonesomeness as the realization came. Sally was abandoning him, again. He had flew all this way to find her, only to be rejected in return. It shouldn't burn, it shouldn't matter, but it did. The cold distant look in the Sargent's eyes as she expelled him from her life, it mattered, and it stung. He was frustrated by Sally's lack of response but he would not go home, he would not return without her. Even if that meant stalking her until she saw that he would not let his weeks of self-discovery be ignored by the one person they centered on. He expected her rage, her anger but not her indifference. He would have been more content with her rage because he finally began to understand why her rage would be justified.

"Betrayal." He said more to himself. He knew Sally's feeling because as she expelled him he began to identify with them himself, but as he viewed things from Sally's perspective he finally understood that he had struck first. "I should not have…"

"Forget about it," Sally shrugged "I'm over it." She turned to her bags then opened a box hosting a pair of expensive shoes.

"If you are over it then why must I leave?"

"Because I don't have time for you or this thing we have been doing anymore." Sally said "I'm not Dr. Watson, I plan on doing things with my life, so I don't have to put up with you."

"No Sally," Sherlock shook his head slightly. He took Sally's hands into his own "John is my dearest friend, you could never be John." He said "But I had hoped, secretly I must admit, that you could be a bit more than that."

"Maybe I did as well." Sally nodded then pulled her hands back "Thanks for letting me down."

"Sally-"

"If you meant anything you just said, I'm sure your reaction would have been different the last time we were together.

"What I said was true, as was my previous words." Sherlock expected Sally's glare but instead received another shrug as she slipped into the adoring pair of shoes. "At the moment, those words were true." He clarified unsure if his words or sentiments were even received by the occupied woman "After weeks of isolation and confusion wondering why I dreadfully missed our time together, I realized it was more to it than what I told you."

"It's ok, as I said it doesn't matter now does it." Sally shrugged again "I'm over it." Sally made turned from the consulting detective but he blocked her. "Leave me alone, I have a long night ahead of me, and I need to get ready." She did not have time to figure out if this was one of Sherlock's game. "I honestly don't care about our previous night." her arms folded around her breast"Just go away and when we get back to London we can return to being enemies or whatever but that's all. An incident such as the previous one has poisoned whatever chance of friendship we had. That is, if we ever really were friends to begin with." Sally made to turn but Sherlock caught her in his arms and captured her wide brown eyes with his enchanting pair.

"We both know that we have never been friends." Sherlock forgot himself as his hands trailed down Sally's back. He felt her muscles tense at the misunderstanding of his words. "Just friends" he clarified as he was lulled closer to her, his nose barely touching hers. He saw himself kissing her for no reason other than he wanted to, that reason settled well with him as he kissed the Sargent.

Awakened from her indifference, Sally slipped from his grasp and made to punch him square in his face. He caught her fist only to dodge her next punch. Sherlock began to point out how illogical her reaction was, but that moment caused him a knee in the stomach He leaned over from the attack but blocked her leg as she attempted to knee him in the face. He stood hastily with realization that this was not a game. Sally actually wanted to damage him. With that in mind, when she made to punch him once more he caught her hand and twisted her arm behind her back. She squirmed at the tight grip then responded as Sherlock predicted by slamming her head back into what should have been his face. He dodged it successfully and caught her other arm before she attempted to slam it back into his groin.

"I will break your foot." Sally's warning came out in an angry snarl as she lifted her large heel. Sherlock held her still.

"I don't think you really want to do that." Sherlock said simply

"I can, I have done it to many people before, and you're no different."

"Yes, but I am sure you never gave anyone of them a warning." Sherlock said then quickly moved his foot back to avoid Sally's heel. "You are very angry with me." Sherlock pressed his face against her hair "This is more than your usual irritation I know, this time you actually want to hurt me and I think I understand why now." He took a deep breath in and let the fragrance of her fill his sense, then sighed to himself "Why did you do this?" he referred to her straightened hair "I miss your curls." Sherlock pressed his nose against Sally's neck as memories of their night together and the marks he made there ran through his mind, he took another deep breath and his grip on the Sargent unconsciously loosened.

Sally noted Sherlock's grip loosing. She realized that she could get free, she could hurt him, and she could physically wound him while his guard was down. She considered it for a while longer knowing full well that physically wounding him would not accomplish anything. But it could not hurt, with that resolve she shoved her elbow back into Sherlock's stomach and he fell at her unsuspected attack. She glanced back at the groaning man then tossed her hair over her shoulder.

"More where that came from" She snapped then made for her buzzing phone. She straightened her dress as if the person on the other line would sense her untidiness then gracefully, her manicured hand lifted the mobile to her ear.

"Hallo" Sally's voice was unusually soft and remained so as she continued her conversation in near flawless Dutch. Sherlock raised an eyebrow and before he could fully ease drop she had ended the call and started to get ready. Sally pulled on her coat and her gloves then turned back to Sherlock. "I don't care what you do, or where you go and I am not interested in anything else you have to say." She opened the door "I would suggest you get out of my room, because as much as I would hate to blow this, I might just." Feeling that she had made herself very clear, she slammed the door and proceeded to her evening.

Sherlock allowed himself a whole minute before he grabbed his coat and proceeded to follow her. She did say for him to be out of her room didn't she? He needed some fresh air anyway. He watched Sally climb into the back seat of a lavish car, then flagged a cab which had no problems keeping said car in view and following it to an even more lavish restaurant.

Upon arrival to the restaurant, Sherlock paid the cabby, slipped away and followed the Sargent who seemed to care so little about being followed. She had not looked over her shoulder once. Did Sally really expect him to just go back to London? He tisked to himself, this was probably one of the reasons she was still a Sargent Sherlock supposed. He casually blended into the society around him, a guest or waiter when it suited him until finally he made it to the area of Sally's meeting and there he became crossed.

There sat Sally, her straight hair elegantly piled atop her head, her graceful shoulders bare, her torso hugged by a tight dress that accented her slim midsection and stopped right above her knees which allowed her long legs free to carefully swing back and forth as she dined with the essence of style herself, Ms. Madeline Rose. As Sherlock watched the older woman whose simple black suit screamed class, he began to understand all of Sally's changes and shopping tendencies.

She had straightened her hair for her, purchased expensive clothing and wares, for her, and even chose to stay in a hotel well above her means, for her-Madeline Rose. But why? Why for this peppered-haired, self-obsessed, egotistical beauty queen? Was it really what it looked like? And why did Sally suddenly decide to lean in so presumptuously-

"Chanel," Sherlock was at their table in seconds thus ending Sally's 'presumptuousness' "It's clearly not one of your fragrance Ms. Rose, or anything seductive so that tells you of her motive for this evening already. You shouldn't get your hopes up."

Madeline scoffed and Sally's eyes grew wide "Excuse me?" The beauty queen waved toward Sherlock "Who is this man?"

"Waiter-" Sally was quick to glare at Sherlock "He's our waiter, I spoke to him –briefly- about perfumes when I came in." Sally's glare dared Sherlock to disagree with her but Madeline was already over it.

"Whatever, waiter I changed my mind, yes, we'll have the wine." Madeline casually waved.

"Ah ja ze vine," Sherlock took on his role. Sally rolled her eyes.

"Oh shut up." Sally sighed then caught herself "I mean, thank you, now go away."

This earned a small laugh from Madeline "Dear Elizabeth, I do believe I may be rubbing off on you." She said. Sherlock frowned and Sally's glare intensified. With an upturned nose, as he passed the table.

When Sally had identified the path that Sherlock had taken, she politely excused herself and followed him.

"You are a disease, a plague there is no getting rid of you." Sally snapped as she cornered the consulting detective "How dare you follow me here, and nearly ruin my evening. What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Oh come Sally, or should I say, Elizabeth," Sherlock scoffed. "What kind of lover renames her partners? Do you respond to that during more intimate moments as well?"

"Elizabeth is my middle name." Sally snapped "And that's none of your business what I respond to."

"Is it not? Not even a month ago it was."

"It's not anymore now bag it and leave."

Even teeth found Sherlock's bottom teeth as he struggled with the frustration of it all. Sally left him in London for this? How could she? "Do you even know what kind of woman you are dealing with?" Sherlock snapped "This fashion goddess is a cold cruel woman. Her second husband was tragically murdered and she didn't even bat an eye as she sold all his stock which she use to build her empire. She's cunning conniving and manipulative. And that's dangerous for you." Sherlock leaned in close "I see from your interaction that you tolerate her presence, yes expensive gifts are good, the life of an admiring lover for pay is appealing, if you know how to play the part and you my dear do not. She is oblivious now but she will find out and when she does, I fear for your safety."

"I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself."

"Are you now? And you choose to do that for meaningless things."

"Maybe it's more than that, maybe I like her."

"How could you like her? Spoiled, demanding, arrogant, privilege- how could someone like you with such gifts, end up with someone like her?"

"How did end up with you?" Sally scoffed "You do realize that you just described yourself, right."

"I am not." Sherlock snapped with a shake of his head "You really believe that?" He took Sally's face in his hands and anticipated her hostile rejection but did not come. He caught her gaze in an attempt to impress her with his urgency "You have to end this Sally, come back let's settle- fix what went wrong that night-morning."

"There is nothing to fix." Sally removed his hands from her face.

"Sally, you endanger yourself going this route. Do you know how many of her previous lovers have suffered her wrath? Look at her Sally, really look. She's a bitter controlling woman, her many lovers made her that way. Lovers like that assistant, she hates you by the way, ones like her who took advantage of her superior's soft spot and used that to get ahead in the business. How do you think a woman like that responds to betrayal? And how much do you want to bet that she has gotten away with it, multiple times. What do you think she will do to you once she finds out you're only here for expensive things and, and- Oh…" Sherlock's eyes grew wide as it dawned on him. "Oh…" he forgot himself and smiled down at the Sargent with full intent on kissing her again but stopped short at her lips "You _do_ know." His smile became wide and crazed. "You, _know_." He smiled "You're on a case."

"Yes I am." Sally said simply then closed the distance and gave his lips a short kiss "Go back to my suite, I'll fill you in on everything when I get back. I promise." Sally pushed her room key into his pocket with a smile.

Sherlock could hardly contain his excitement, it was nearly bubbling over. He kissed her again then sprang from her embrace, passed the request for wine to the nearest waiter and all but bounced out of the restaurant. His excitement carried him though the cab ride and all the way into Sally's suite. He congratulated himself for not giving up on the Sargent. It really appeared as if she had sold her soul to the devil and he was almost certain he had lost her. But clever, clever Sally Donovan ever the persistent one, ever the hard worker, she was on a case!

"How admirable!" Sherlock sighed as she sank into a chair. A case! She was undercover. Sherlock could hardly tell which thought elated him more, the thought that there was something fun to do, or the fact that Sally was not actually romantically involved with the old empress. Sally was just possibly using her for information, or maybe even, maybe even Ms. Rose was a suspect! But for what? Ah the question lingered but Sherlock composed himself and suppressed the impulse to go off investigating without Sally (that's what got him in trouble the first time).

The consulting detective calmed himself as he convinced himself it would all be worth his wild once Sally returned and revealed everything as she had promised. He smiled to himself she had promised to tell him everything, and then she kissed him. He could safely assume that his mission was not in vain and he could very count on him having the Sargent in his arms by the end of the night, as opposed to that old fashion viper.

Sherlock checked his watch once more, then his mobile as the clock stroke midnight. Sally should have returned by now and he should have found out about everything, she promised him. He thought back to their conversation. Her nods of approval and enlightenment as he listed the traits of Ms. Rose, as if she were mentally taking notes. He had seen that look before… That silent calculating look on her face when she had just figured out something obviously important… or when she had just solved a case! Sherlock shot up from his chair. She wouldn't have. Quickly he grabbed the remote then turned the television to the news station.

"Millions of fans are shocked at the news of the attempted suicide of famous fashion icon Madeline Rose." The news reporter's voice rang through the suite "Her attempt was halted by Scotland Yard's own Sargent Sally Donovan who was on the scene investigating a cold homicide case. Sargent can you tell us a little more about what happened tonight?"

"There is only so much I can without compromising my case or my office…" Sally was made for the camera, Sherlock had to admit that to himself even as his insides fumed. "I can say that I have researched this case thoroughly especially during the last year and when I am able to speak on it I will lack no details."

"Spoken like a true politician." Sherlock scoffed "Perhaps you are ready to be detective inspector after all." He turned the television off then sat at the edge of the large bed with his hands under his chin. Sally had tricked him.

A smirk played with the corners of his mouth as the thought settled in. How clever. He chuckled to himself "Clever, clever Sally…" She out-smarted him, gleaned information from his observations, hid her intentions and disillusioned him with a kiss. "Oh you have learned so much, and so well" Sherlock applauded the Sargent and his elation and anticipation for her arrival returned for different reasons. Yes, he could still safely assume that his mission was not in vain, how great it was to watch Sally blossom in this way all on her own. Not in vain at all. And he could also still very much count on him having the Sargent in his arms by the end of the night.

**A/N: Many thanks for sticking with me in this story so far, and sorry for being so late with this update. I wanted this to be the last chapter, but there is a bit more life in it yet. **

**Nakala: Thanks for your feedback as always, it was fun playing with Sherlock's introspection. I think he does that right? haha**

**0ayumi0: Thanks for your feedback as well, it's nice to have you on board. **


End file.
